The steady rise, throughout the latter part of the 1990s, of Latino-flavored content and the profiles of its creators has given way to a veritable
flurry in the past several years, and the past 14 months has been no exception,
with the recent $5 million Sundance purchase of the film La Misma Luna; Jennifer Lopez and Antonio Banderas’ Bordertown,
from director Gregory Nava, securing distribution through THINKFilm; and, most
of all, a trio of Latin American directors with projects nominated at this past
year’s Academy Awards,
including Alejandro González Iñárritu’s Babel, which scored a surprise
Golden Globe victory. Given these developments and more, it’s hard to ignore
the ascendant power and influence of south-of-our-border culture.
A box office hit in its native Mexico, 2004’s Al Otro Lado arrives with an
Oscar-burnished image, having served as Mexico’s
official entry for best foreign film at the 78th annual Academy Awards. Written
and directed by Gustavo Loza (2003’s Deep
Silence), the film is a poignant story, and a fairly star-studded one at
that, if your eyes are at all trained on international cinema. Volver’s
Carmen Maura, Amores Perros’ Vanessa
Bauche and Innocent Voices’ Adrian
Alonso star in the movie, which follows the lives of three children from three
different countries (Morocco, Cuba and Mexico) who all share the same loss —
the absence of a father who has emigrated searching for a better quality of life.
Most of this flight, of course, is motivated by a desire to
provide for a better life for one’s family — even if this means a corporeal separation
from them. Sometimes, though, it’s tinged with irresponsibility or
self-interest. Al Otro Lado is told
from the viewpoint of those left behind, and through their melancholic
grappling we come to understand their desires and dreams, all the universality
of their plight, even in its unique specificity.
Calling Al Otro Lado
— loosely translated as “to the other side” — very much a “festival film” isn’t a slam,
per se, it’s just calling it like it is. After all, the movie’s entertained
playdates at AFI Fest, the Damascus
Film Festival, the Manheim Heidelberg Film Festival, and the Palm
Springs, Portland
and Newport Beach International Film Festivals. The fact remains, though, that however
beautifully photographed it is at times, in its own grimy way, the movie still remains a niche curio. With her
wide, expressive eyes, Maura remains an actress of uncommon allure, and her
segment here is the most effective and interesting in a well-meaning but overall uneven endeavor.
Perhaps as a result of a passing acquaintance of mine — a maintenance
employee at my apartment complex, and probably the hardest worker on their
entire staff, a guy indispensable due to both sheer effort and multi-field handiness
— recently dealing with the impending loss of his job, if not facing the outright
threat of deportation, Al Otro Lado succeeded
more for me in tangentially arousing feelings of ruminative sympathy than as a
piece of dramatic agitprop. The same may be true for you. The Univision DVD
release of the movie, unfortunately, leaves a good bit to be desired. Menu
selections can be made in either English or Spanish, and there’s a 40-minute
making-of documentary — the sole supplemental extra — replete with location scouting footage from Havana
and Mariel, Cuba,
interspersed with on-set rehearsal footage. But compression issues, artifacting
and other digital hiccups mar the transfer and visual presentation. To purchase the DVD, via Amazon, click here. C+ (Movie) C-
(Disc)
Copying Beethoven draws a
lot of inspiration from the soaring notes of the music itself, and comes packaged
with a powerhouse performance from Ed Harris, an inspired casting choice. Still, Copying Beethoven can’t help but feel
very contrived at certain key moments, and the falseness of these impertinent devices
weigh heavy on the film.
Directed by acclaimed filmmaker Agnieszka Holland (Europa Europa, The Secret Garden), Copying
Beethoven aims to impart its lushly photographed drama through a romanticized
shorthand of the mercurial nature of brilliance and an awkwardly constructed
mentorship. Set in 1824, years since Beethoven’s last success, the movie
focuses on the time in the genius composer’s life when he is most plagued by loneliness
and personal trauma. As he’s aging and functionally deaf, a copyist is urgently
needed to help Beethoven finish his symphony in time for its scheduled debut performance.
Young conservatory student Anna Holtz (National
Treasure’s Diane Kruger) is recommended for the position, and the stubborn
battle of wills ensues, leading up to the symphony’s grand unveiling.
Harris is definitely no stranger to bringing larger-than-life
figures to the screen, having jumped behind the camera and tackled the title
role in 2000’s Pollock, which earned costar
Marcia Gay Harden a Best Supporting Actress Oscar. Truth be told, the intensity
of Harris’ mesmerizing performance here notwithstanding, that film was a much
more interesting and adept exploration of an artist’s torment. Written and
produced by Stephen Rivele and Christopher Wikinson (Ali, Nixon), Copying Beethoven has the rich sense of period
detail you might expect from such accomplished big-screen biographers, but the movie
lacks subtlety to an astounding degree. Kruger is game, and certainly attractive,
but having her correct key musical mistakes in her employer’s work and, in the
end, co-conduct the material from the orchestra pit, gives off the decidedly misleading
impression of Beethoven as a doddering senior citizen. It rankles and rings
false, even without knowing a lot about the time period. Matthew Goode (Match Point, The Lookout), Ralph Riach and Bill Stewart, meanwhile, all co-star.
Copying Beethoven
is presented on a double-sided, single-layered disc, in 2.35:1 anamorphic
widescreen transfer that preserves the aspect ratio of its original theatrical
exhibition, but only delivers a so-so job on color-matching; some scenes seem
washed out, and not by artistic choice. Audio comes in a 5.1 Dolby surround sound
track that makes rich, evocative use of its rear channels for a symphonic fullness;
a Spanish language Dolby surround track and optional English and Spanish
subtitles are also included. DVD special features consist of an audio
commentary track with Holland and
Harris, folded together from discrete recordings; a collection of five deleted
scenes with optional commentary by Holland;
and a 10-minute making-of featurette that focuses almost entirely on the orchestral
ensemble scenes. C- (Movie) B- (Disc)
Set in the later Tang dynasty, in 10th century China, Curse of the Golden Flower reunites Hero
and House of Flying Daggers director Zhang Yimou with his longtime
leading lady and the star of some of his best work, Gong Li. Unfolding in
broad, colorful strokes in a lavish, breathtaking and exquisitely designed
world, it’s a dizzied-up, decorative movie of cloak-and-dagger betrayal — part
martial arts epic, part costume drama — that essentially plays out as the
ultimate family squabble.
On the eve of the Chong Yang Festival, the Emperor (Chow Yun
Fat, dialing up the glowering) returns unexpectedly with his second son, Prince
Jai (Jay Chou). His pretext is to celebrate the holiday with his family, but
given the chilled relations between he and the ailing Empress (Gong), this
seems suspicious at best, disingenuous at worst. For many years the Empress and
Crown Prince Wan (Liu Ye), her stepson, have been having an illicit affair.
Feeling trapped, Prince Wan dreams of escaping the palace with his secret love
Chan (Li Man, Zhang’s newest casting discovery), the daughter of the loyal Imperial
doctor (Ni Dahong).
Meanwhile, as the faithful, doting Prince Jai grows worried
over his mother’s health, the Imperial doctor and his family are relocated by
the emperor when he senses a looming threat. Attacked by scores of assassins
during their move, Chan and her mother Jiang Shi (Chen Jin) are forced back to
the palace, where their return sets off a chain reaction of dark secrets,
shadowy deceptions and murky plottings. As truth is finally dragged into the
light of a moonlit night, thousands of chrysanthemum blossoms serve as the
trampled, bloody backdrop for a showdown at the Imperial Palace.
The performances in Curse
of the Golden Flower are steeped in melodrama, matching the movie’s
impressionistic handling of violence, which unfolds in leonine, largely
bloodless, certainly non-gory fashion, all things considered. There’s a
haughty, regal imperiousness to Gong’s Empress — similar to Meryl Streep’s work
in The Devil Wears Prada — even as
she comes to the realization that she’s being poisoned. It’s all fairly entertaining,
but not exactly something that gives one a strong sense of identification or
sympathy, with the Empress or anyone else.
In detail and scope, this surely ranks as one of Zhang’s
most ambitious films. Working with many of his frequent collaborators —
including cinematographer Zhao Xiaoding, production designer Huo Tingxiao, and
Oscar-nominated costume designer Yee Chung Man — Zhang creates a rich,
evocative drama with luminous flourishes of action. If there’s a further knock,
it’s that the pitch of the movie feels a bit too steep, and the setting
constrictive. Though the Emperor and Prince Jai have just returned from abroad
early in the film, there is no sense of the broader world or countryside — this
is a hermetically sealed picture, and its sumptuous settings notwithstanding,
one eventually yearns for a break — a larger canvas and some different colors.
Presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, Curse of the
Golden Flower’s transfer is superb, maintaining the detail and color-steadfastness
of every frame. Focus is deep and sharp, contrast is vivid without being overpowering,
and there are no problems whatsoever with grain. DVD special features consist
of two items. First up is a brief making-of featurette that includes interviews
with various cast and crew members, all of whom talk about their experience on
the movie, and in particular working with one another. Costumes and production
design are also afforded some time and explanation. The only other inclusion is
footage from the movie’s Los Angeles
premiere at the 2006 AFI Fest, which features a few short interviews with Zhang
and his two leads. B- (Movie) B- (Disc)
I’m dropping the additional appellation of ownership
bestowed upon National Lampoon, because I can’t for the life of me figure out
what the hell that really means these days. That leaves us with just Van Wilder: The Rise of Taj, a movie
whose title references a character which is not at all in the actual film — perhaps
a first.
Penned by David Drew Gallagher (obviously preserving his
prerogative to switch or otherwise condense his name on future credited projects)
and directed by Mort Nathan (a former Golden Girls scribe and, ignominiously
enough, the writer-director behind Boat
Trip), the film is a down-market blend of pretty much exactly the sort of set
piece comedy and very occasional flashing of boobs that one would expect, with
a few moments of glancing amusement thrown in courtesy of some of the personalities.
The film got crucified critically (no surprise), and it washed out at the box
office, where it grossed only $4.2 million to its predecessor’s $21.3 million.
In reality, though, it’s not that bad. It’s just a slightly-below-average doofus comedy for randy pubescent guys.
If it’s no great shock, it certainly still bears mentioning
that The Rise of Taj sorely misses
the droll presence of original star Ryan Reynolds, who can take a fairly pedestrian
line reading and, through sheer force of will, bend it into something funny.
What we’re left with in the front-and-centering of Kal Penn’s empowered supporting
character from the first film is a genial guide who slogs determinedly through
an overly pat narrative.
Having learned the ways of women from his legendary mentor,
Taj Badalandabad (Penn, above right) sets out for Great
Britain’s Camford University, to obtain a graduate
degree in something or other. After having the rug of membership pulled from
under him at the snooty, elitist Fox & Hounds fraternity by sexually
compensating rich guy baddie Pip Everett (Dan Percival), Taj sets up shop at
the Cock & Bulls, a haven for misfits and losers. There’s young Irish drunk
Seamus (Glen Barry), silent Simon (Steve Rathman) and nerdy Gethin (Anthony
Cozens), who picked Camford because it offered “the highest nerd per willing
chick ratio” of any nearby university. Then there’s Sadie (Holly Davidson,
above left), a sexually forward tart whose inexplicably salty language (including talk of “a good poke in the low whiskers”) provides
the movie with a bit of spark.
Taj spars with and eventually falls for his junior faculty supervisor,
Charlotte Higginson (Lauren Cohan,
a sort of English Sophia Bush), who also happens to be Pip’s girlfriend. Balsac
the bulldog comes along (eventually literally, as it turns out) from the first
movie, and all of this feeds into a competition, naturally, for the Hastings
Cup — which rewards fraternities through a points system for athletic, academic
and social service project accomplishments. Lessons of self-respect are
eventually imparted, along with plenty of humiliation, ethnic lingo (goron,
raji, beta and haji) and referential bits nipped from other flicks like The Mask of Zorro and Dead Poets Society.
Anchored by an English language 5.1 Dolby surround sound
audio track, The Rise of Taj also
comes with a Spanish language surround sound track, and optional English and
Spanish subtitles. A nice slate of bonus materials complements a DVD whose plastic
Amray case comes with a winkingly saucy half-O-ring that gives the impression of
Taj standing between two nude cover girls. (Pull it down and they’re actually
sporting bikinis.) A three-and-a-half-minute gag reel finds the cast breaking
each other up, and Penn self-deprecatingly criticizing his ability to maintain his
accent. Nine minutes of cast and crew interviews comprise a special making-of
featurette, which solves the mystery of Sadie’s hardened nipples during a
beer-chugging scene (peanut halves stand in nicely) and also devotes time to
Balsac the dog’s prosthetic balls.
Penn, meanwhile, gives viewers a four-minute set tour in
Bucharest (a last-minute production stand-in when budget overruns forced a
split shoot between Romania and the United Kingdom), during which the translation
for “director” in the native tongue is revealed to be “regizor.” Music videos
“Get Steady” and “Heads Will Roll” are also included, and a collection of deleted scenes and an assortment of
other trailers round out this release. To purchase the film, click here. C- (Movie) B (Disc)
History is full of stories that don’t learn in civics class,
because the most widely accepted methods of teaching hold that chronological
memorization and endless, parroting repetition of macro examples are the way to
drill facts into adolescent minds. We are taught by dates, rules and those that
stand on the shoulders of giants, not by exceptions, interconnectedness, galvanizing
events of the day and those that lay groundwork for change.
Percy Lavon Julian represents one such example of a person
passed over by history. He lost his job — Harvard University withdrew his Ph.D. fellowship,
concerned over donors’ views of an African-American teaching white students — on
the eve of the Great Depression. His house was firebombed. He took on powerful,
entrenched interests in the scientific community and overcame all sorts of obstacles,
both societal and personal, to become a world-class chemist, a self-made
millionaire and a humanitarian. Yet despite all the accomplishments of a
remarkable life, Julian’s story remains largely unknown.
The modest son of a Postal Service worker and teacher, and the
grandson of Alabama slaves,
Julian attended DePauwUniversity
at a time when the college town was still segregated, and broke the color
barrier in American science more than a decade before Jackie Robinson did so in
baseball. A brilliant innovator — he was the holder of more than 130 chemical
patents — Julian discovered a way to turn soybeans into synthetic steroids on
an industrial scale, helping to make drugs like cortisone available to millions
of individuals for whom they were heretofore not an option.
In Percy Julian: Forgotten
Genuis, a special two-hour NOVA documentary presentation starring Tony Award-winning
actor Ruben Santiago-Hudson, Julian’s scientific breakthroughs and gripping
biography are brought to life with vivid period reenactments based on interviews
with dozens of colleagues and relatives, as well as newly opened family
archives. While dramatic reenactments have the cheesy connotation of America’s Most Wanted, other similar criminal
justice shows and thinly produced warfare specials for the History Channel, these
segments are nicely done. The involvement of Julian’s family and the painstaking
research that went into the program assures its veracity, and they’re directed with
a graceful hand by Llewellyn Smith. Courtney B. Vance, meanwhile, narrates the edifying
passages of historical record, and the result is at once educational and
enlightening — a glimpse back in time at the type of figure that helps changes
historical course but rarely gets the credit or warm glow of an appreciative spotlight.
Ever since its launch back in the days of VHS, WGBH Boston
Video has released many critically acclaimed public television programs,
including the Emmy Award-winning The
Miracle of Life, plus bestsellers like The
Elegant Universe, The Jane Eyre Masterpiece
Theatre Collection, Commanding
Heights: The Battle for the World Economy, Evolution and Africans in America. Alongside this letterboxed,
all-region presentation of Percy Julian:
Forgotten Genius, recent releases include The Hidden Epidemic: Heart Disease in America, the very topical Global Warming: What’s Up with the Weather? and Kaboom!, a chronological
history of the history of pyrotechnics, from ninth century China
to 19th century industrialist Alfred Nobel to legendary physicist Robert Oppenheimer. Percy Julian: Forgotten Genius’ DVD
supplemental materials consist of printable materials for educators. To order
this title or any other DVD release from WGBH Boston Video, phone (800)
949-8670 or visit their eponymous Web site’s
shop by clicking here. B+ (Movie) C
(Disc)
Set in a remote Brazilian beach town and effectively playing to the xenophobic instincts of a traveler’s worst nightmares, Turistas details the gritty misfortunes that befall a group of young adventurers when they first get marooned and then stalked in the nearby jungles. A tangled combination of thriller elements, travelogue and more streamlined bits of gruesome imperilment, the movie successfully wrings some novel tension out of its exotic besiegement before eventually unraveling in its final third.
Young Americans Alex (Josh Duhamel), his sister Bea (Olivia Wilde) and her best friend Amy (Beau Garrett) have traveled to Brazil for fun and adventure. On a rickety bus rocketing up a twisting mountain road, they meet Pru (Melissa George), the only one among them who speaks the native language Portuguese, plus Finn and Liam (Desmond Askew and Max Brown), two British chaps who just want to experience for themselves the beautiful Brazilian women they’ve heard so much about. After their driver loses control and they’re all lucky to escape with their lives, these new friends find their way to a cabana bar on a nearby beach, seeking to salvage their day rather than simply waste eight hours waiting on a replacement bus.
A hazy night of exotic liquors and sensuous dancing later, they wake up alone, their possessions gone, and with no idea of the nightmare yet to come. Wandering into a nearby town, they reacquaint themselves with Kiko (Agles Steib), a friendly young villager who was among the last people they saw the night before. After an incident with the townsfolk, the group follows Kiko into the jungle — but is it to safety or into even further and worse danger?
With both Blue Crush and Into the Blue, director John Stockwell has shown himself to be adept both at showcasing toned actors and actresses in skimpy attire, and at capably capturing action in and around water. Here, abetted by cinematographer Enrique Chediak’s highly saturated, rich chroma touch, Stockwell renders the film’s locale in memorable strokes. He also gets an admirable amount of grounding detail right, such as the group’s delicate barefoot negotiation of a rocky street after they’ve been stripped of their passports and extra clothes.
Turistas isn’t as strictly interested in brutality as some of its genre brethren, but it does evidence a hearty acknowledgment of recent commercial trends. Debut screenwriter Michael Arlen Ross seeds his generally restrained narrative with a few innovative moments of shock violence and gore. While not compulsory, per se, early on these moments help give Turistas a careening sense of possibility; one is involved in the story because it seems un-tethered to convention. The envelope is eventually pushed off the table, though, with one scene in particular seeming to exist for no other reason than to guarantee some word-of-mouth regarding its graphic nature. Similarly, recalling elements of David Marconi’s 1993 indie The Harvest, the movie also overplays its hand a bit in the particulars of its third act torment; when the antagonist, a sadistic doctor named Zamora (Miguel Lunardi), reveals his intentions, this culminates with some unintentionally amusing, politically indignant speechifying.
Where Turistas really comes off the rail, though, is in its murky final third. As it moves to more explicitly define its threat, the movie takes on a de-saturated, bleach-bypass look, which might be fine were it not eventually mixed with a nightfall of harsh, crosscutting shadows. Jittery or willfully dark camerawork can sometimes effectively feed a film’s tension or claustrophobia, as in 1999’s The Blair Witch Project or this year’s The Descent, for example, with which I still had a lot of problems. The third act of Turistas, on the other hand, just feels like a dark and stressed-out mess. The movie is additionally mightily hamstrung — mortally wounded, really — by an utter lack of spatial clarity.
Presented in anamorphic widescreen, unrated cut transfer that faithfully replicates the evocative photography of its theatrical exhibition, Turistas includes an English language 5.1 Dolby digital sound mix and French and Spanish Dolby surround mixes, as well as optional English and Spanish subtitles. Rather surprisingly, apart from a one-minute teaser trailer for the recently released sequel to The Hills Have Eyes, the only bonus feature on this DVD is a 10-minute featurette on the effects work in the film. A big strike for quantity, then, but a high mark, at least, for quality. In this bit, Stockwell talks about the verité importance of some of the gruesome effects, lest audiences be pulled out of the moment. Interviews with he, underwater DP Pete Zuccarini, prosthetic specialist Michael Manzel and others shed light on gambits both classic (a fake appendage for a shot in which a hook slices into a foot) and complicated (a grisly surgery sequence in which a special breathing mechanism had to be applied to a body cast, to simulate the rise and fall of the chest cavity of a living person whose organs are being taken out). C(Movie) C (Disc)
Somewhere between foreign and not, 2005’s A Little Trip to Heaven is one of those
interesting independent movies that must have come together in a blur of
hastily tendered offers, short “windows” for actors, and bizarre coincidence. Directed
by erstwhile actor Baltasar Kormákur (101
Reykjavik), from a screenplay co-written with Edward Weinman, the Iceland-shot
movie is perhaps most notable for featuring Forest Whitaker, fresh off his
Oscar victory for The Last King of Scotland, which is
no doubt why it’s finally seeing a decently pushed DVD Stateside release.
Insurance agent Abe Holt (Whitaker, sporting a strangely indefinable
accent) is investigating the suspicious death of the driver of a burned-out
car. Dispatched by his pitiless boss Frank (Peter Coyote), Holt has to work out
whether the dead man, a con man with a criminal record, could possibly have
been the victim of an attempt to swindle the insurance company. When he meets
Isolde (Julia Stiles), the dead man’s sister, Holt slowly begins to lose his
professional distance, but becomes suspicious of her inscrutable husband Fred (Jeremy
Renner). Against the backdrop of a hostile, endless and harsh Midwest
winter, the characters reveal themselves to be multi-layered, involved in a
curious yet balanced plot. In the end Holt must decide if doing the right thing
is worth the price of doing something very, very wrong.
A Little Trip to
Heaven moves in slow-motion, carefully plotted, feet-through-the-snow steps,
and either benefits or suffers — depending on your familiarity with his
catalogue — from Renner’s previous experience with white trash antagonists. The
movie features cinematography of gorgeous disrepair, though its gloomy tone will
really appeal only to up-market arthouse audiences for whom literary-plotted comeuppance
is its own cinematic reward. If some of the inter-familial twists, then, are a
bit self-satisfied, many of the character details — like penny-pinching actuary
Abe asking for a receipt at a local dive restaurant — bring the material a nice
sense of proportion and full-bodiedness. I wish I could say Whitaker’s
performance had more of a natural pull, though; as is, it just feels like an
impulsive half-sketch. His accent comes and goes, and his burgeoning affinity and
sense of protection for Isolde hinges too much, and in late-developing fashion,
on her young son Thor (Alfred Harmsworth).
A Little Trip to
Heaven is presented with a Dolby digital 5.1 audio mix, alongside optional English
and Spanish subtitles. Alongside the cursory bonus inclusions of trailers for
this movie and other First Look releases is a so-so collection of behind-the-scenes
material. First up are 16 minutes worth of deleted and extended scenes,
including the movie’s original opening, which involves two characters plunging
off a cliff in a staged accident (portions of this footage are incorporated
into the finished product, so this gives away nothing). A 12-minute making-of
featurette includes interviews with cast and crew, and also reveals the Icelandic
word for actor, which is “leikari,” for what it’s worth. C+ (Movie) C+ (Disc)
First airing on the Showtime cable network in October 2005, the
“Masters of Horror” anthology series has parlayed its early critical plaudits
into deserved public acclaim, with each one-hour episode tackling provocative
ideas, and giving some of the genre’s leading practitioners a chance to
exercise their fright muscles. The latest offering is director John Carpenter’s Pro-Life, a twisted tale of the
supernatural and the menacingly paternal.
Written by Drew McWeeny and Scott Swan (who also teamed up
with Carpenter for another “Masters” offering, Cigarette
Burns), Pro-Life is a combination
monster movie and siege film. It starts off with a near-accident on an isolated
mountain road. Two doctors at a remote country women’s health clinic, Alex
(Mark Feuerstein) and Kim (Emmanuelle Vaugier — above, in a shot perhaps unfairly unrepresentative of her work in the movie), are returning from an
afternoon fling when they almost hit young Angelique (Caitlin Wachs). After
driving her to their facility, they discover she happens to be the daughter of
the devoutly religious Dwayne Burcell (cult film veteran Ron Perlman, of Hellboy),
who’s had a restraining order placed against him for targeting the clinic for
its “ungodly activities.” A tense standoff quickly develops, and the situation
worsens when Alex and Kim discover Angelique is pregnant… and with a most
unusual baby. As Dwayne and his three sons attempt to “rescue” Angelique, all
involved soon discover that the only thing more dangerous than her would-be
saviors is the demonic secret growing within her.
The movie’s low-fi production detail sometimes comes across
as cheesy (Angelique is wheeled into the facility by an extra sporting a
“clinic escort” vest!), and Wachs is additionally not strong enough of an
actress to really pull her weight. The material itself is I guess a bit
scandalous, chiefly in its juxtaposition of themes, but Carpenter’s staging
frequently seems perfunctory and a half step off. What really helps sell Pro-Life, though, is Perlman’s
performance. He brings a quiet, chilling menace to the role of Dwayne, giving
all the scenes of relatively conventional human standoff a weight and
intimidation that the rest of the film can’t really touch.
Presented in 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen, enhanced for 16×9
televisions, Pro-Life comes with Dolby
digital 5.1 and Dolby digital 2.0 surround sound mixes, though the dialogue
seems mixed a bit too low in relation to the music. The release comes with the usual
impressive slew of supplemental bonus features that trick out Anchor Bay’s “Masters of Horror” releases.
First up is an audio commentary track with Carpenter and writers McWeeny and Swan.
Much glad-handing ensues, but Carpenter eventually ducks out, mid-track, for a
cigarette break, and instructs the writers to continue praising him as much as
possible. A 15-minute making-of featurette includes interviews with all of the
primary cast and crew, but the six-minute effects featurette on the birthing of
the movie’s demon baby — complete with interviews and show-how from Howard
Berger and Greg Nicotera, plus actress Wachs — is in particular a lesson in
streamlined entertainment value. A storyboard gallery, a text biography of Carpenter
and list of his films, and a copy of the movie’s teleplay on DVD-ROM round
things out. B- (Movie) A- (Disc)
Death Row is not exactly
what you’d call a tony period piece. Shocking, I know, given its genteel title,
and the co-starring presence of Jake Busey (let us now bow our heads for a
moment to observe the memory of Tomcats…), who now becomes notable as the whitest man
ever to play a character named Marco.
The story centers around one doozy of a mash-up. Seeking to
explore the bloody past of Isla del Roca Penetentiary, filmmakers Keith (Kyle
Schmid), Brian (Scott Whyte) blow off both a terrifying account from former
prison guard John Elias (Stacy Keach) and a mysterious warming from a priest
(Danny Trejo), and descend upon the aforementioned abandoned detention center with
their production team to begin shooting a documentary. Once inside, the crew
finds that a gang of fugitives from a nearby robbery gone awry have taken
refuge within the prison grounds. Shortly after their discovery, even more mayhem
breaks out when the rampaging ghosts of dead prisoners begin killing their new
guests. With filmmakers and fugitives locked together in a struggle for corporeal
survival against the continued existence of, I guess, the souls of their ghostly
antagonists, much blood naturally flows… which is to say in all sorts of unnatural
ways.
The utilization of a film crew conceit has been a hot (and
frequently lazy) hook ever since The
Blair Witch Project hit big back in 1999. Death Row doesn’t really score any points as far as imaginative
handling or integration of that tidbit, but railing against the set-up of a
movie like this is rather pointless. It’s not necessarily superbly acted, either, and some of the ways in which scenes cut together is slapdash and grating. Where Death
Row does score decent marks, though, is in its manipulation of effects and gore. Penned
by Rick Glassman (976-EVIL 2: The Astral
Factor… man, how I’ve waited to type that) and directed by Kevin VanHook (Slayer), the film doles out the
requisite carnage and death in interesting enough fashion (there’s nice use
made of a license plate machine), tosses in a few lookers (Shanna Collins, Claire
Coffee and Jamie Mann, above) amidst all that aforementioned sausage, and keeps
things moving at a nice pace.
Housed in a regular Amray case with a cardboard slipcover, and
presented in a 1.78:1 anamorphic widescreen transfer with Dolby digital 5.1 or Dolby
digital 2.0 audio audio, Death Rowcomes
with a smattering of supplemental extras that enhance the disc’s worth as a
rental for those in the market for grimy, gory genre monkeyshines. Joined by actors
Mann and Whyte, VanHook kicks things off with an audio commentary track, full
of backslapping anecdotes about on-set problem-solving. VanHook also talks a
bit about the editing process, but says that since he helped hatch and pare
down the narrative with Glassman (he takes a story credit on the script), he found
himself having a clearer idea of the final product than on some of his other
films, something supported by the sole deleted scene included here. A fairly
standard, 11-minute making-of featurette includes interviews with cast and
crew, as well as some behind-the-scenes footage. A four-minute bit entitled License to Thrill focuses on the gory effects
work involved in the movie. A photo gallery, some conceptual art and trailers
for other forthcoming Anchor Bay DVDs round out the release. C (Movie) B- (Disc)
Thanks in large measure to the efforts of former Vice President
Al Gore, global warming is becoming less of a partisan politics chew toy, and more and
more a matter of recognized fact. For those who found a voracious interest and appetite
on the matter awakened by Gore’s Oscar-winning documentary An Inconvenient Truth, as well as those that for whatever reason
were predisposed to skip that film, viewing it as a cult of personality-type release, this timely, interesting NOVA documentary tackles the subject of the Earth’s climate future
with a fair-minded and even-keeled tone and responsibility.
From deadly flooding and catastrophic hurricanes to melting
polar icecaps and soaring record high temperatures worldwide, the global
climate seems to be experiencing calamities at every turn. The question, of
course, is to what degree these are natural, temporary glitches, or more the devastating
and worsening product of decades of international environmental neglect.
The fact is that man-made carbon dioxide has overloaded
the Earth’s atmosphere with dangerous levels of greenhouse gasses, so named for
their warming effect. And with demand for fossil fuels increasing daily, almost
all experts agree that emission levels will basically triple in the next 100 years. Yet
this so-called “greenhouse effect” remains the subject of some heated debate (ha
— gallows humor!) among scientists, climatologists and futurists. Some believe
the Earth’s temperature will rise by nearly 10 degrees, melting arctic icecaps
and sending sea levels surging, destroying low-lying coastal areas and touching
off famine and drought in other portions of the world. Others believe the
weather will stay relatively normal. Who’s right? Decide for yourself with this
riveting documentary special, which crunches some data and takes a fascinatingly
speculative look at the forecast for the future.
The somewhat cheekily titled Global Warming: What’s Up with the Weather? is a bit pedantic, yes,
and at 112 minutes certainly longer than any number of flashier short-form
entries designed to catch the roving eye of a more down-market crowd. Part of the
problem is that it lacks the upwards-tracking emotional arc of An Inconvenient Truth,
and thus at least the partial optimism if not sociopolitical empowerment that that
movie gives off. Still, though, Global
Warming is an interesting and unassailably researched title, and certainly
worth a look for younger scholastic audiences or those with an unquenched interest
in the subject matter.
Ever since its launch back in the days of VHS, WGBH Boston
Video has released many critically acclaimed public television programs,
including the Emmy Award-winning The
Miracle of Life, plus bestsellers like The
Elegant Universe, The Jane Eyre Masterpiece
Theatre Collection, Commanding
Heights: The Battle for the World Economy, Evolution and Africans in
America. Alongside this full-screen presentation of Global Warming, recent releases include The Hidden Epidemic: Heart Disease in America, Percy Julian: Forgotten Genius and Kaboom!, a chronological history of the
history of pyrotechnics, from ninth century China
to 19th century industrialist Alfred Nobel and legendary physicist Robert Oppenheimer. Global Warming‘s DVD supplemental materials consist of printable materials for educators. To
order this title or any other DVD release from WGBH Boston Video, phone (800)
949-8670 or visit their eponymous Web site’s
shop by clicking here. B (Movie) C (Disc)
A stark, sobering and engrossing documentary, La Sierra takes its name from a seedy,
violent barrio in the town of Medellin.
If that name in turn sounds familiar,
it’s of course because it lent itself to Pablo Escobar’s infamous drug-running cartel
of Colombia, the
cocaine capital of the world and scourge of Latin America.
A state of perpetual urban warfare exists in the country, with leftist ELN guerrillas,
a small handful of paramilitary gangs and the American-backed Colombian
military continually battling for power and control. Though bumped off the front
pages of newspapers by the conjoined morass of Iraq
and Afghanistan, the toll has been devastating: more than 30,000 civilians killed in the past
decade.
Using the lives of three young people as its entry point
into a gritty rhetorical assessment, La
Sierra explores what it means to live amidst constant violence — where the
sound of machinegun fire is as common as crickets at night — and how that sadism
and brutality warps the sensibilities and duties of the young. First up is Edison
Florez, aka “The Doll,” a commander of Bloque Metro, a right-wing militia. At
the age of 22, he is the de facto mayor of the neighborhood and already the father
of six children, to a half dozen different women. Edison
is an intelligent and charismatic young man, making his openly communicated dedication
to a life of violence all the more frightening. As we follow Edison
through the small victories and setbacks of conflict, he shares his dreams for
himself and his children and explains his possessory attachment to what he
calls “my war.” It offers a chillingly parallel glimpse into the grunt-level, on-the-ground
psychology of the internecine civil feud raging in Iraq
right now.
Seventeen-year-old Cielo, meanwhile, was displaced from the
countryside as a young child when her brother and father were murdered by
guerillas. A mother by 15 and a widow the following year, when the father of
her baby was cut down in gang violence, Cielo is now devoted to a new boyfriend…
whom she visits in jail every Sunday. Jesus, 19, is a mid-level paramilitary
member. Badly wounded when a homemade grenade blew up in his hands and face,
Jesus presents himself as ready for death at any moment, regularly indulging in
marijuana and cocaine.
Intimate and hard to watch, but never evincing a feeling of
wallowing in artfully arranged despair for despair’s sake, the brisk, 84-minute La Sierra unfolds in a bleak,
unforgiving world into which few journalists or documentarians would dare to venture,
and with good reason. Co-directed by Scott Dalton — a nine-year veteran of freelance
Latin American photojournalism who once spent 11 days in kidnapped captivity — and
Associated Press reporter Margarita Martinez, La Sierra reveals not only startling moments of violence and its
aftermath, but also bits of tenderness and faith that give the community hope
for survival. In the end, it’s a heartrending movie about how sustained violence irrevocably
shapes and informs the opinions and options of not just those primarily
involved, but generations to come.
Presented in Spanish with, naturally, English subtitles, La Sierra comes in a regular Amray case,
in 1.33:1 full frame, and with a Dolby digital 5.1 audio track. DVD bonus
features are fairly sparse, including only some cursory film notes and a trailer
for the movie. More edifying historical and/or current events information would
have further fed the wonkish audience for this type of title, but it isn’t a
prerequisite to the teeth-gritting enlightenment La Sierra provides. No “enjoyment” to be found here, but then
again, that’s part of the point, and something that all of us lucky enough to
be even reading a review like this need reminding of from time to time. To purchase the movie from Amazon, click here. B+
(Movie) C+ (Disc)
Philip, 44, worked out, played golf, and died suddenly of a
massive heart attack. Fifty-seven-year-old Pat didn’t know she had high blood pressure and
diabetes — until they led to her heart attack. Robin, 42, knew that an
inherited form of high cholesterol put her at risk, but the first of multiple
heart attacks caught her by surprise. These and other stories are told in The Hidden Epidemic: Heart Disease in
America, a cautionary two-hour title that pulls back the covers on one of the
nation’s greatest health challenges in the 21st century and beyond.
We all, it seems, know someone who has been touched by
cancer. While that threat, in the broadest strokes, isn’t yet significantly abated,
funding and education have helped launch many advance screening programs, and a
whole handful of leading cancer indicators are on the wane. Heart disease,
meanwhile, is now the number one killer in America
and it shows no signs of slowing, especially given our increasingly sedentary
lifestyles. Still, it’s not only a problem for the obese. More than half of all
people who die of heart disease succumb without warning.
While there is no cure, doctors are learning remarkable new
things about the disease, including where it starts, how it occurs, and what
that means for us. Interesting and informative, The Hidden Epidemic
showcases these stunning scientific advances, research that is helping to transform
the field of cardiology, and how it impacts us. The documentary also covers the
history of the emergence of heart disease as a major problem for Americans,
dating to the post-World War II period of prosperity, widespread smoking among
adults through the 1950s and ’60s, and the resulting effect on the nation’s
diet and exercise habits.
DVD bonus features of this letterboxed-presented title
include special printable fact sheets about heart disease, heart-healthy recipes
from chef and television host Ming Tsai, and an extracted selection from Reader’s Digest Magazine entitled “10
Easy Steps to a Healthier Heart.” Following the documentary, CNN’s Larry King hosts
a half-hour discussion featuring some of the country’s top medical experts and
physicians, all of whom present important strategies and practical tactics for
improving the health of your heart. There’s also an interview with King about
his own heart disease experiences. While more personal testimonials like these would
have amped up The Hidden Epidemic’s television
news-mag quotient of tugged heartstrings, practicality is the chief concern here,
and in that regard the above mentioned supplemental extras are certainly worthy
and appreciated. To order this or any DVD release from WGBH Boston Video, phone
(800) 949-8670 or visit their eponymous Web site’s shop by clicking here. B+
(Movie) B+ (Disc)
Alexandra Paul is perhaps different things to different people, but
to me she’s simply the statuesque brunette from erstwhile beach sudser Baywatch. I couldn’t really tell
you anything about her character or acting ability (sorry, I don’t remember her uncredited turn in Kuffs, and I never saw Diary of a Sex Addict), just that she was the one on
the show who at least seemed not to be a complete bimbo. (And yes, I’m definitely
including David Hasselhoff in that statement.) Oh! I remember something else. Paul also appeared in Who
Killed the Electric Car?,
a great documentary from last year, so I can also happily report that she’s environmentally
conscious.
Directed by episodic hack… err, hired hand veteran Rex Piano and
penned by — depending on which set of credits you choose to believe — Jason Burke
and Peter Sullivan or Jason Preston and Peter Sullivan, Trapped is a
made-for-cheap-thrills TV thriller starring Paul that unfolds over the course
of one weekend but, naturally, dramatically changes the lives of everyone
involved. Originally aired on the Here! cable channel last year (where it also
sported an exclamation mark of its designation after its indistinctive title),
the movie stars Paul as Samantha, an Internet security expert struggling to
balance work, her relationship with her girlfriend and being a good mother to
her temperamental teenage daughter, Gwen. While on their way to a spa for some quality
mother/daughter time, the pair is kidnapped by the mysterious Adrien (Breaking
Away’s Dennis Christopher). Using Gwen as leverage, Adrien forces Samantha
to use her computer skills to hack into an FBI database and locate a woman
hidden in the Witness Protection Program. In the obligatory race against time,
Samantha must break free from her kidnappers, save her daughter and foil Adrien’s
plot to hunt down and kill the witness. Why? Because having a mother that’s able
to be charged with accessory to murder would definitely not only further cramp
mother-daughter relations, but also put a big dent in potential college
admissions applications and scholarships. Michelle Wolff and Nicholas Turturro costar
and bring a bit of edge to their characters that certainly isn’t on the page,
but Trapped is a mortgage-and-rent project in almost every regard. Not that there’s
anything necessarily wrong with that… I’m just sayin’. If a flyweight, lesbian-tinged thriller of
fleeting diversion and/or Alexandra Paul are your respective cups of tea, Trapped
won’t necessarily feel like a sentence. Otherwise, there’s little of
consequence to be seen here.
Presented in 1:78 widescreen enhanced for 16×9 televisions, Trapped
comes with a solid little Dolby digital 5.1 English sound mix. There are
unfortunately no subtitles (sorry, China!), nor any DVD supplemental features contained herein. C- (Movie) C- (Disc)
The Loop was a freshman show that got cut down amidst all the
mayhem last fall.
Co-created by Will Gluck (Andy Richter Controls the Universe) and former South Park scribe Pam Brady, the show centers around 24-year-old Sam
Sullivan (Bret Harrison), the youngest executive at a major airline, and the
first among his friends to land a real job. Well… major airline may be overstating
things a bit. Sam works at Trans Alliance under a gruff CEO, Russ (Philip Baker
Hall), and his right-hand woman Meryl (Mimi Rogers). It’s a struggling niche
carrier who’s currently outside of the top 10 in passengers and certainly
prestige. Still, Sam is doing well for himself. As half suit and half slacker, though, Sam has to somewhat precariously straddle two worlds, balancing a desire to
climb the corporate ladder with his desire — and capability — to party hardy
with his wild and crazy roommates.
First there’s Sam’s older, hedonistic brother Sully (Eric
Christian Olsen, putting an only somewhat tamer spin on the same sort of
character he played in The Last Kiss),
who refuses to grow up. Then there’s Piper (Amanda Loncar), Sam’s college friend,
for whom he secretly has a crush. Finally there’s ditzy bartender Lizzy (Sarah
Mason), who proves the object of many of Sully’s schemes and jokes.
The character of oblivious female crush is an old one, and The Loop doesn’t do an extremely
convincing job of making Piper more than a very pretty and occasionally witty cipher.
The absurdist plotlines, meanwhile (including a dog swallowing Sam’s portable flash
drive), are little more than transparent set-ups for fast-paced, throwaway humor.
What elevates the show, though, is its cleanly delineated irreverent tone and consistently
wicked joke writing — the flesh and blood of any sitcom to the skeletal
structure of its conceit. It certainly helps, too, that the cast is likeable
across the board.
DVD is the perfect format for an aborted series likes The Loop, and this regular Amray
case-housed collection of all seven episodes of the show (a half dozen more or
so may be burned off as summer filler — it’s to be decided) presents them in
fine fashion. Somewhat surprisingly, at least to me, the programs are in a 1.78:1
anamorphic widescreen aspect ratio; an English Dolby digital 5.01 surround
sound mix captures the series’ aural demands with grace and ease.
Close-captioned or ESL audiences can also avail themselves of the optional
English and Spanish subtitles. The lone bonus feature is a brief collection of
interviews with cast and crew — Thesis:
Work vs. Play, its title referring to a impassioned pitch that helped Sam
land his job at Trans Alliance in the first place. What The Loop’s fate is, ultimately, one can’t be sure, but that doesn’t
mitigate to an untoward degree the pleasure of this set. B (Series) C+ (Disc)
Generally credited as being one of the founders of the world
famous “Motown Sound” that swept the nation in the 1960s, Mary Wells is
considered not only one of the best female singers in the music industry, but
also a vital part of the success of Berry Gordy’s prestigious label. This DVD
release, though definitely too brief and somewhat dashed off, celebrates her musical offerings.
Like many of that era, Wells came up quick, as a talented youngster.
While still in her teens, Wells began working as a contract songwriter for Tamla
Records, and in short order got her own performance contract. Health problems
plagued Wells throughout her life (as a small child, she suffered a bout of
spinal meningitis, which left her temporarily paralyzed, and with partial
blindness in one eye), so it was somehow less shocking — but no less
unfortunate, for music lovers and her loved ones — when Wells passed away in
July of 1992, at the age of 49 years old.
Wells reached her greatest creative and commercial heights
by working with Smokey Robinson as a producer. She penned and recorded “Bye Bye
Baby” in 1961, and the tune became a big hit, marking the start of a very successful
five-year run. Three major singles would follow the next year: “The One Who
Really Loves You” which would chart at #8, “You Beat Me to the Punch,” which
would chart at #9, and “Two Lovers,” which would hit #7. Tours of Europe and
the American South and Northeast followed, turning Wells into a solo sensation,
which was confirmed in 1964 with her own #1 hit, “My Guy.”
Recorded live at the Rock ’n Roll Palace in Orlando, Mary Wells: Greatest Hits contains a
collection of a half dozen of the singer-songwriter’s tunes, along with four
more bonus tracks from the up-tempo Contours and the Crystals, groups that were
also part of Gordy’s satellite of stars. The aforementioned quartet of 1961 songs
kick things off, followed by “What’s Easy for Two Is So Hard for One.” Signature
tune “My Guy,” meanwhile, closes things out, with Wells’ soulful performance
coming across as at once intimate and forcefully grand (older American Idol fans can see a pinch of Wells
in Melinda Doolittle). At 40-some minutes, and with no supplemental features, this
DVD feels fairly threadbare. While remaining true to the title of the
collection (these are her hits), it’s
a shame that there’s no room for “Once Upon a Time,” Wells’ captivating duet with
Marvin Gaye, or other of her offerings. B- (Concert) D (Disc)
Mel Gibson
put a characteristically violent spin on Mayan culture with Apocalypto, but of course there were more
than a few kernels of truth spread throughout his subtitled actioner,
especially in regards to the Mayans’ penchant for ritualistic human sacrifice. After
all, enemies of notorious King Yax K’uk Mo squared off in an ancient Mayan
arena in a game that appears much like modern soccer, with winners of the fateful
contest being spared and losers losing their heads. These and other interesting
tidbits are given fuller illumination in Lost
King of the Maya, a long-form documentary originally broadcast on PBS in
2001. The piece explores the collapse of the Mayan civilization in reverse-cast
mode, by examining the rise of the civilization out of Central
America’s rain forests more than two millennia ago.
For more than five centuries, a dynasty of so-called “Blood
Lords” presided over the Mayan city of Copan,
conducting hallucinogenic vision quests, human sacrifice and campaigns of
ritualistic warfare. Many generations of scholars dismissed the story of Yax K’uk
Mo as part of a self-conflated myth, but Lost
King of the Maya takes viewers deep into the lush Honduran rain forest, where,
at the Mayan equivalent of the Acropolis, a team of archaeologists and
historians finally piece together a more complete look at the fascinating rise
and fall of Copan civilization and Yax K’uk Mo’s pivotal role as founder.
As with most historical non-fiction programs of this nature,
there needs to be a hook, and that’s what Yax K’uk Mo provides Lost King of the Maya. But it’s not
fallacy. In the fifth century AD, this unique ruler — not native to the area — was
able to consolidate power and achieve rapid conquest over local warlords,
immediately overhauling the ruling principles and hierarchy of an entire civilization.
The pyramids of ancient Egypt
capture the imagination in more immediately breathtaking strokes, but the
ancient Mayans’ sophisticated intellect, astronomical abilities and complex
culture makes a persuasive case that it was just as advanced. While it uses its
subject as the main lens of refraction, Lost
King of the Maya also devotes plenty time to beautifully carved Copan monuments, magnificent temples and the like, easily showing why the lost city
is often referred to as “the Athens of Central America.” Transforming legend and
myth into reality in an easily digestible and interesting form, Lost King of the Maya is a solid documentary
for history buffs.
Presented in full screen in a fine transfer with no problems
with grain or edge enhancement, Lost King
of the Maya is spread out over two DVDs, and runs just under two hours. It comes
with the usual spread of sparse supplemental features, chiefly aimed at
educators. This means links to special portions of the NOVA web site, and a few
other printable materials. B (Movie) C (Disc)
A moody,
three-quarter-sketched genre document somewhere between The X-Files, The Twilight
Zone, The Mothman Prophecies and
(surprisingly) a heartwarming Lifetime fictioner, writer-director James Lay’s Dreamland is a spooky, open-ended,
alien-tinged quasi-thriller that makes the most of its desolate landscapes. Shot
in deep shades of blue by cinematographer Jonathan Hale, the movie is an old
school, filmic exercise in the elongation of apprehension. When filmmaker Robert
Rodriguez talked, in Rebel without a Crew,
his tome about the making of El Mariachi,
about making a list of one’s assets, and then using those to help shape the
narrative of a movie, he could very well have been talking about a movie like
this, so spare and streamlined are its moves and payoffs.
The story centers on
a pair of young lovers, Megan (Jackie Kreisler) and Dylan (Shane Elliott, above), who
are on a road trip through the Nevada flatlands. When they stop at a greasy spoon
diner between the infamous “Area 51” and a radiation-poisoned nuclear testing ground,
things start to get weird. Kindhearted counter jockey Blake (Jonathan Breck) regales
them with stories of a crashed alien craft, much to the consternation of another
customer (Billie Joe Armstrong). Said patron’s irritation nearly escalates into
a fistfight, but Blake steps in and calms things down. Back on the road, Dylan
turns on the radio and finds a speech from Adolf Hitler at the 1936 Olympics. When
the car dies, a visitor appears in the rear window — a visitor from another
moment in time. When he and Megan get separated, Dylan gets “touched” somehow,
changed. When they reunite, and subsequently make their way back to Blake’s
diner, it’s just the beginning of a slurry mystery spanning worlds and time.
Lay (Razor) certainly doesn’t wind things up too
tightly, and while there are a few bits included seemingly only to up the
creepiness quotient, they’re not rooted in gore or effects work or anything
fashionable and hook-y like that. Jason and Nolan Livesay’s music is a weird,
grab-bag mixture, sometimes nicely reminiscent of an old school, Hitchcockian
thriller, but sometimes leaning inappropriately toward a slight comedic flavoring.
(The source tunes in the movie are otherwise solid, and Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” gets a nice workout, too.)
If the physical staging of some of the scenes and the conveyance of spatial
relationships leaves a bit to be desired, Dreamland
is quite well acted, and possessing of some nice, unfussy visual passages. There’s
also an admirable, rewarding slow-play of details to match the low-key stakes
of the story. It ultimately doesn’t all come together in pat, a-ha! fashion; elliptical and a bit coy, Dreamland is characteristic of the difference between something that is really very well directed and smartly directed. Still, if you can take character-rooted nuance in your sci-fi, there’s
some genuine enjoyment to be found here.
There are
unfortunately no supplemental DVD extras on this single-disc release from Image
Entertainment, which comes in a 1.78:1 widescreen aspect ratio, with a Dolby
digital 5.1 audio track. Something, anything, from Lay would have been nice,
and as far as the transfer, while the blue-hued cinematography is nice to
behold in many scenes, the contrast is such that it renders other passages far
too murky. B (Movie) C- (Disc)
Cuba Gooding, Jr.) Or Leaving
Las Vegas nominee Elisabeth Shue, for that matter. It’s the latter who
stars in this straight-to-video thriller from writer-director Isaac Webb, a moody
little indie-minded movie in the vein of Rosemary’s
Baby and The Others, with a pinch
of Repulsion thrown in for good
measure.
Using post-partum depression as its leaping off point (Shue
apparently got the script before Brooke Shields could), First Born trades in issues of slippery slope sanity that Hollywood
productions would revel in, turning the amp up to 11. In his narrative feature freshman
effort, though, Webb, while definitely aiming for goosing shock, doesn’t feel
the need to explicitly set up these jolts, or always play out their immediate consequences
to the most logical conclusion. The result is a movie of not insignificant atmosphere,
but one that also feels like a bit of an intellectual casserole, with leftover
ideas emptied from the refrigerator of Webb’s mind in willy-nilly fashion.
Shue stars as well-to-do housewife and former dancer Laura,
who has the quintessentially perfect life. Upon discovering that she’s
pregnant, Laura soon after moves to the suburbs with her husband Steven (Steven
Mackintosh). His long hours and emotional disengagement feed her burgeoning
sense of isolation, physically paralleled by their spacious but sparsely
decorated, secluded country home. When their baby is born, it quickly becomes
apparent that being a mother is more challenging than Laura first imagined, as
she gradually begins a downward slide into despair.
All sorts of strange crud starts happening, and Laura naturally
questions her own sanity. From a mouse-infested basement with a mysterious
diary found in its walls to a peculiar new nanny (Kathleen Chalfant) that Steven
insists on employing to assist his increasingly erratic wife, the red herrings
and head feints come at a fast and furious clip. Even if a fairly film-savvy audience member is able to mostly sort these out rather quickly, and thus “call” the film’s ending long before First Born crosses the finish line, there’s some low-fi pleasure to be taken from a film that invests more in its characters than its CGI budget, particularly if one is partial to and missing Shue (yes, pun intended). Presented in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, First Born comes with an English language Dolby digital 5.1 audio track, and optional Spanish subtitles. C+ (Movie) C- (Disc)
Owing as much to distributor 20th Century Fox’s clandestine
screening policies as my own unfamiliarity with the character from his earliest
incarnation on Sacha Baron Cohen’s Da Ali
G Show, Boratwas a movie that
sort of snuck up me, and boy was that the right way to see it. To not be
bothered or encumbered with broad strokes plot descriptions or even smartly
pitched, tongue-in-cheek mini-spoilers for some magazine’s fall preview issue,
to see the film fresh and let it wash over you in roughshod fashion like a
rogue wave on that first foray into the water during your annual trip to the
beach — this was the way to
experience Borat.
Subtitled “Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit
Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan,” the movie, of course, centers around
mustachioed Kazak reporter Borat Sagdiyev (Cohen), a clueless and virulently
anti-Semitic naïf who takes to America with his tubby producer Azamat Bagatov (Ken
Davitian) and “a jar of gypsy tears for protection” in order to make a
documentary about the United States for his fellow citizens. There Borat
stumbles through various rituals of socialization (obtaining a car and driver’s
license, attending a dinner party, learning the nuances of Stateside humor),
and finds himself smitten with Baywatch
pinup Pamela Anderson, whom he regards as his vestal virgin-in-waiting.
That various, quoted critical analyses of Borat can tout it in equal, honest
measure as a “fall-on-your-face, pee-in-your-pants, screaming riot” and “the
most politically influential, culturally important, shockingly tasteless and
gaspingly hilarious movie of the year” is reflective of the movie’s satirical
brilliance. The sheer range of the careening humor — only loosely,
situationally scripted, and much of it improvised, with the unwitting
participation of real folks — is impressive. Gross-out laughs at naked,
masculine cavorting and pooping in a bag are thrust uncomfortably right up
against drunken frat boys, homophobic Bible-belters and other glancing
embodiments of intolerance. Throughout it all, Cohen never drops his guard and
winks at the audience; it’s as impressive a display of acting as any this past
year, and Cohen deservingly shared in the Best Actor prize with Forest Whitaker
from the Los Angeles Film Critics Association.
The film, meanwhile, is somewhat of a mirror. It’s in large
part pure anarchic reveling, yes, but it’s also quite revealing. Cohen plays
Borat as a chauvinistic, grade-A doofus, but he’s also a solicitor of
prejudices, a sort of census taker of only partially hidden judgments — showing
in the process that it’s possible to appear outwardly decent but still harbor
contemptible views and prejudices.
Even the DVD packaging extends Borat’s prankish, unblinking joke. Available in either 1.85:1
anamorphic widescreen or full screen editions, the Amray case’s cover art is
printed in slightly blurry fashion on a low-grade quality paper, and apart from
the credits, it’s entirely in Kazak. The disc itself, meanwhile, further feeds the
feeling of a homemade bootleg, with the title scrawled in faux marker on a DVD
that reads, “It is life. No. Demorez.” Only the O-ring, outer cardboard
slipcover prevents idiots everywhere from angrily phoning 20th Century Fox or
their local retailer when returning home and unwrapping their purchase; it’s
normal, and in English. (Optional English and Spanish subtitles are also
available, along with Spanish, French and Russian Dolby surround mixes to
complement the original, English language 5.1 Dolby surround audio mix.)
The disc’s supplemental extras, on the other hand, don’t
necessarily overwhelm you with quantity, though there is more than a half hour
of deleted scenes and additional material — much of it from Cohen’s in-character
publicity tour, as when he arrived at the Cannes Film Festival in a neon green
banana hammock (above). The menu screens are in garbled English, with a purposefully
low-tech production design to match the movie’s Eastern Bloc credits. Given the
instant-classic of this title, a more tricked-out special edition somewhere
down the line seems a lock, but one could reasonably expect it to be far off —
a retrospective anniversary release when Cohen is open to reflecting without
benefit of a mask. A (Movie) B (Disc)
Horror comedies have been around for many years, what with poorly
choreographed action terror often coming off as slapstick and wretched effects
work and sub-competent acting often feeding revisionist interpretations of such
low-budget genre pieces. Horror comedies of willful intent are fewer and
further between, though — the degree of difficulty is greater, after all. But Edgar
Wright and Simon Pegg’s Shaun of the Dead,
a spot-on homage to George Romero’s classic zombie films, opened the international door to
grander commercial possibilities, and it’s into this breach that the zombie
comedy hit Night of the Living Dorks
— a big commercial smash in its native Germany, where it was released under the moniker Die Nacht der Lebenden Loser — steps,
slowly dragging its feet.
Aided by Goth gal pal Rebecca (Collien Fernandes), Philip
turns to a bit of voodoo. During a drive, their bong malfunctions, spewing
smoke into their Scooby-type van, and causing a crash. After inhaling some
ashes bought on eBay that allegedly can raise the dead, the friends become
indestructible zombies with an insatiable appetite for human flesh, wild
parties and gym class revenge. At first these powers make them the newly
christened big men on campus, but things eventually take a turn for the worse,
and much mayhem ensues.
While horror is high on the agenda, Night of the Living Dorks also owes a lot — like South Korean
import Sex Is Zero
— to Porky’s and similar type
American T&A comedies of the 1980s. Blending together shenanigans of the
sort found in Idle Hands, Shaun of the Dead and American Pie, the movie sails along
courtesy of its high marks in personality and blitheness. The gore level is
fairly suppressed, with gruesome appendage severings mostly swapped out for
sight gags and anarchic bloodletting.
Night of the Living
Dorks is presented in 1.85:1 widescreen, enhanced for 16×9 televisions. Naturally,
English subtitles are provided for the Dolby digital 5.1 audio mix, alongside
an English-dubbed track in Dolby digital stereo. Alongside the cursory bonus
inclusions of the movie’s English and German theatrical trailers is a nice
collection of behind-the-scenes footage, and deleted and extended scenes,
including a more action-infused alternate ending. Interviews with cast and crew
are also featured. B (Movie) B+ (Disc)
Fifty Pills likely got made on the strength of the commitment of Veronica Mars‘ Kristen Bell to costar, but this wildly uneven college comedy is Lou Taylor Pucci’s show all the way. The young actor — a notable bit player in movies like The Chumscrubber, Fast Food Nation and Southland Tales, and the star of Thumbsucker — gets a chance to exercise his slightly goofier leading man muscles in a story about a straight arrow college freshman who finds himself in the unusual position of having to peddle the titular amount of ecstasy tablets over one weekend in an effort to pay off an overdue $896 tuition bill.
Pucci stars as Darren Giles, a wide-eyed North Carolina kid who arrives for his first semester at the City College of New York and immediately finds his world turned upside down by rich, party-boy, drug-dealing roommate Coleman Anderson (John Hensley). Their wild opening night bash lands them both on academic probation, which is less of a big deal for Coleman, but jeopardizes lower-middle-class Darren’s scholarship. Flash forward to five months later — after his father has been laid off, and other avenues of primary resort have been conveniently sealed off — and Darren’s predicament. Oh… and did I mention Bell’s place in all of this? She’s the obligatory nice gal love interest, Gracie — the picture’s conscience, keeping Darren on the right track by helping remind the audience that he’s not really happy about having to do what he’s doing.
Written by Matthew Perniciaro (a producer on Fanboys, in which Bell also appears) and directed by Theo Avgerinos, Fifty Pills is a complete mish-mash of style and tone; Pucci is given some direct-address monologues, but the film isn’t really a Matthew Broderick-style charmer in the vein of Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. Its careening compression of time is problematic, and the romantic stuff with Gracie is pretty much non-earned and uninvolving, since the movie gives us only flashbacks to the putative beginning of their relationship and a bunch of stuff shoehorned in at the end. Additionally the movie is flatly designed and shot, and sketched pretty much only to take us from one stand-alone scenario to the next. The music is nice collection of alt-rock and emo college radio tunes, though, from bands like Helen Stellar, LaRocca, One Block Radius and New Sense.
Most of the other highlights, to the degree that that word can be used, come in the form of the movie’s cameo bit players, some of which offer up outlandish characters. Brick‘s Nora Zehetner plays Gracie’s bluntly self-centered, pot-smoking roomate to nice effect; American Pie‘s Eddie Kaye Thomas, meanwhile, plays her cousin — a trust fund dropout obsessed with Diff’rent Strokes. World Trade Center‘s Michael Pena pops up as a thug so aggrieved and scarred by a bad drug score from Coleman (he crapped his pants doing the Hammer dance, we’re told) that he sets off on a path of revenge, while Jane Lynch (a staple of Christopher Guest’s mockumentaries) has a few scenes as Darren’s mother and Undeclared‘s Monica Keena portrays a dominatrix named Petunia who lives with her kindly grandmother.
Presented in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen, Fifty Pills comes with a Dolby digital 2.0 stereo track. Bonus features weren’t featured on this review disc, but reportedly include deleted and extended scenes, a behind-the-scenes featurette and an audio commentary track with the aforementioned filmmakers, as well as director of photography Harris Charalambous and producers Kevin Mann and Jake Demaray. C- (Movie) I, for Incomplete (Disc)
An unfortunate box office flameout last fall — where it
grossed just over $1 million in a somewhat mangled and abortive platform
release — Fast Food Nation marks
indie-minded auteur Richard Linklater’s last curveball entry, and it’s a shame
it didn’t get a better look at theaters, because Linklater is a superbly
skilled, thoughtful director who — different genre work notwithstanding —
always seems to locate the uncertainties and dark curiosities of his
characters. Be it comedy or drama, they never stop trying, questioning,
thinking.
A dramatic modification of Eric Schlosser’s eye-opening,
investigatory non-fiction novel of the same name, Fast Food Nation takes an impressive aerial view of the quick-eats
industry. It isn’t a comedy or satire, yet neither is it a dour drama or
reactionary indictment. Trading in the same sort of multi-story,
connect-the-dots template most recently indulged by films like Traffic and Syriana, it shows how cows and illegal immigrants are equal
exploitable and expendable in a system that values haste and the bottom line
above all else.
The film begins with Don (Greg Kinnear), a California
marketing executive relatively new to his position with dominant fast food
chain Mickey’s, being dispatched to Cody, Colorado to investigate claims that
the meat supply for the restaurant’s new hamburgers has been contaminated with
animal excrement. Don visits the local establishment, where he meets bright
high school student Amber (Ashley Johnson), who cashiers to help her single
mother Cindy (Patricia Arquette) pay the bills.
Don also visits UMP, the meat-packing plant on the outskirts
of town, but doesn’t get to see its kill floor effluvium. It’s only when Don
meets with Rudy (Kris Kristofferson), an old rancher who’s wise to the
realities of the company, that he then begins to see some of the bigger
picture.
UMP thrives on the sort of cheap, paid-under-the-table labor
provided by human cargo runners like Benny (Luis Guzman). Among the newest
workers at UMP are sisters Sylvia (Catalina Sandino Moreno) and Coco
(Ana Claudia Talancon), and Sylvia’s boyfriend Raul (Wilmer Valderrama,
achieving a surprising stillness), who have border-hopped across Mexico
and headed to Colorado looking
for better jobs. Shift foreman Mike (Bobby Cannavale) runs roughshod over them
— Sylvia promptly quits, but eventually comes back — striking up an affair with Coco.
Despite the subject matter under the microscope, Fast Food Nation is frequently amusing —
Linklater has a deft touch with small comedy of the everyday — particularly
when Amber’s rebellious, free-thinking uncle Pete (frequent collaborator Ethan
Hawke) pays her a visit and scratches her a promissory note for $1,000 on a bar
napkin if she makes it to 21 years of age without getting pregnant. Amber’s
interactions with her sullen coworker Brian (the ubiquitous Paul Dano) also
perfectly capture the downtime languor of adolescent employment.
Where the film most succeeds though, is in its steadfast
refusal to let its characters become ideologues; differing viewpoints are
presented plainly and without the strained veins of righteous raging. The movie
is, at its core, about different, everyday people each weighing the cost and
effort of doing what’s best and doing what’s most expeditious and personally
advantageous. Overall, it may lean a bit more toward the thought-provoking than
blithe entertainment, but Fast Food
Nation never feels less than real, and it shares its maker’s agitant’s
soul. If that sort of commitment to quiet authenticity in an age of big screen flash
and grander emotive speechifying means Linklater continues to retain much of his
puzzling, relative anonymity, it’s certainly not reflective of his skill.
Available in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen that preserves the
aspect ratio of its original theatrical exhibition, Fast Food Nation comes with optional English, Spanish and French
subtitles and an English language 5.1 Dolby digital surround sound mix. A
fantastic audio commentary track from Linklater and Schlosser reveal both men
to be thoughtful, as well as quite happy collaborators. An equally superb,
hour-long making-of featurette, directed by Kevin Ford, chronicles the
project’s journey to the big screen with detail and clarity. Rounding out the
disc’s supplemental extras are a still photo gallery and a collection of
promotional animated flash shorts, styled after The Matrix, that are darkly satirical stabs at the same sinister
captains of industry under the microscope in the feature film. B (Movie) A-
(Disc)
The conventional wisdom used to be that in polite company
one doesn’t talk about two matters — religion and politics. There’s too much
chance of offending someone’s delicate sensibilities, so it’s best to avoid broaching
these subjects, at least in any substantive manner. Hollywood,
for the most part, has typically followed suit in decades past — after all, it
covets the green in the wallets of both Red Staters and Blue Staters.
But the massive success of both Michael Moore’s filmic
Molotov cocktail Fahrenheit 9/11 and
Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ,
though, combined with a country riven by an unpopular war in Iraq and scandal, serial
incompetence and other turmoil at home, has created a populace where, no matter
their opinion, more people than ever seem to at least be engaged in some form
of discourse about politics, cultural values and faith. Ergo, we’ve seen over
the last several years a number of movies which have examined, to varying degrees
and from various angles, the interrelatedness between American political policy
and/or international issues. Movies of this ilk have typically been somewhat
niche-aimed dramas — films like The Quiet
American, Hotel Rwanda, The Constant Gardener, The Interpreter and The Last King of Scotland, with Stephen Gaghan’s Syriana being the biggest if also most
amorphous of the bunch.
A dramatically complex, terrifically involving allegory for
both the effects of modern day, draconian antiterrorism techniques and the
scorched-Earth war of cultural absolutes currently being waged between Iraq’s
Shiite, Sunni and Kurdish populations, Catch
a Fire tells the true story of a humble, apolitical man, wrongly accused of
terrorism, who eventually feels compelled into the very sort of disobedience
and armed uprising of which he was accused.
Set in apartheid-era South
Africa, where for years 25 million native
Africans were ruled and brutally oppressed by less than three million white
colonial South Africans, Catch a Fire
is based on the real-life story of Patrick Chamusso. Patrick (Antwone Fisher’s Derek Luke) is a simple
family man and part-time soccer coach who serves as a foreman at the local oil refinery
and loves his wife, Precious (Bonnie Henna), and two daughters, ages 8 and 6.
An explosion at his plant, though, places Patrick and his friends under a cloud
of suspicion, and he’s arrested by anti-terror unit chief Nic Vos (Tim Robbins, above),
who’s tasked with rounding up the responsible members of the African National
Congress, or ANC — an expatriate South African rebel group that operates out of
neighboring Mozambique.
At first Nic’s questioning is cajoling, but he tacitly signs
off on harder measures that certainly border on torture. Though innocent,
Patrick has a secret that serves as a mitigating circumstance; when he finally
tells the complete truth, Nic still views it as a ploy, and has Precious picked
up and beaten by a government-sanctioned squad. Eventually freed but
understandably shocked into action, Patrick finds his sense of self and purpose
irrevocably reoriented. He leaves his family and sneaks across the border in
order to become a political radical and rebel operative — fighting against the
apartheid regime of South Africa
for equality and the very future of his country.
The movie expounds upon and melds together some of the same
themes touched upon in director Phillip Noyce’s austere 2002 two-fer of the
Vietnam-set The Quiet American and the
Australian-set Rabbit-Proof Fence.
Each of those films are, in their own way, about the slippery slope of absolute
authority and the warped decisions that it leads those in control to make in an
effort to retain said power, and how government policy both official and
coercive can have equally damnable, socially devastating consequences.Still, to call Catch a
Fire a “political thriller” is a bit misleading. It’s much more a straight
drama, with its politics kept at a polite arms’ length. That said, while not
driven by any sort of traditional action scenes, it does, as well, cultivate a certain amount of tension and dread as Patrick
morphs into a political revolutionary and fitfully grapples with the notion of violence
as an alluring form of expediency. Luke is flat-out excellent, in one of the
more under-recognized performances of the year.
Packaged in a single-disc Amray case with snap-shut hinges, Catch a Fire comes with an unfortunately
spare roster of supplemental extras. Three deleted scenes tally just over two
minutes, and don’t provide much additional depth or characterization. One shows
Robbins’ character excavating a piece of evidence at the site of the oil
refinery blast, and another establishes the long hours and dedication of his
job, featuring him getting called away from a family gathering. The final scene
shows Precious receiving a piece of gifted furniture.
The film is presented
in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen, which preserves the aspect ratio of its
original theatrical presentation. The colors are sharp and consistent, and there
are no problems whatsoever with artifacting or grain. The movie was shot on
location in Johannesburg, Cape
Town and Mozambique,
and cinematographer Ron Fortunato’s work is both searing and wide-ranging,
capturing the jumbled sociopolitical backdrop that comprises Catch a Fire’s setting. Much use of
natural light is made, and it’s remarkable, the variety of textures and moods
that are conveyed — be it in the menacing blue-grey dusk of Nic’s outdoor water
torture of Patrick, or the vibrant sunshine of a group of children’s dusty
soccer match.
Parallel Dolby digital 5.1 mixes in English and French anchor Catch a Fire’s audio options, and
each adequately captures the proceedings, with clear, consistent, discernible
dialogue. The material itself doesn’t require a grand, wall-to-wall aural
sweep, so the sound design places its emphasis on more restrained natural and
atmospheric noises, all of which come through loud and clear. Rear channels,
meanwhile, get a nice, subtle workout in the few sequences where violence or
explosions spike. Especially notable is a slowly building scene where Patrick’s
coworkers voice their support for the aims of the ANC through a buoyant group
song as they’re patted down by white African security officers. Optional
English SDH, Spanish and French subtitles are also available.
Apart from the aforementioned deleted scenes, the only other bonus feature is an audio commentary track that
gathers thoughts from director Noyce, stars Luke, Robbins and Henna,
screenwriter Shawn Slovo, producer Robyn Slovo and the real-life Patrick
Chamusso. These comments are frequently interesting, but don’t typically follow
the action on the screen. Noyce talks about the movie’s use of the
aforementioned freedom songs, advised by ex-ANC trainee David Embarta. He also
fascinatingly discusses the war in nearby Angola
and its relationship to South Africa’s
struggle for independence, as well as how the movie relates to problems of
reconciliation in his native Australia
and elsewhere, throughout the world. Luke, meanwhile, talks about the
difficulty inherent in preparing for his accent in the film, and bemusedly notes
that Chamusso asked him, upon their first meeting, “Do you know Beyoncé?”
Bottom line: while a tide of rhetoric painting the world in broad strokes
of black-and-white swirls around us, Catch
a Fire reminds us that there are those who do “noble” service in the name
of misguided or otherwise perverted callings, and that they aren’t blind to the
contradictions and shortcomings of a given system, or otherwise shuttered off
from inwardly channeled doubt. It’s a film about life’s grey areas — an
involving drama and psalm for a higher moral and ethical dialogue.To purchase the movie via Amazon, click here. B+ (Movie) C+ (Disc)
Escapist entertainment takes plenty of knocks, these days
and every generation. But what certainly the Hostels and 300s and even
the Grandma’s Boys and Benchwarmers of today are largely
missing is the tone of blithe naughtiness that went hand-in-hand with the
T&A comedies (and even lunk-headed actioners) of the 1980s. Regardless of
the individual quality of these films, there was seemingly no real ill was
done, and malevolence didn’t seem part of the mainstream creative oxygen. Even in
action thrillers, it was more about the hero triumphing and getting over on
someone than the nasty villain’s downfall.
Perhaps apart from the original Porky’s, nothing embodies this trend more than 1984’s Revenge of the Nerds, a happy-go-lucky
underdog comedy that provided the easy headline of least deliberation for every
profile of Bill Gates and Steve Jobs written in subsequent years. Its successive
sequels — including two made-for-TV projects — would reach a point of
diminishing return sooner rather than later, and quickly scrape the bottom of the
creative barrel, but this film remains an overachiever.
Its story centers around Lewis Skolnick (Robert Carradine)
and Gilbert Lowell (Anthony Edwards), two bookish, somewhat socially inept college
freshmen. Shortly after their arrival on campus at Adams College, members of jock fraternity
Alpha Beta accidentally burn down their own house in a prank gone wrong, and boot
the ineffectual freshmen out of their dorm, turning them into refugees living in
the gym.
Here Lewis and Gilbert meet up with a veritable smorgasbord of
social outcasts, including the fey Lamar (Larry Scott), under-aged Wormser
(Andrew Cassesse), freaky-haired, spectacled Poindexter (Timothy Busfield,
later to be name-checked by Young MC), Japanese exchange student Takashi (Brian
Tochi) and nose-picking Booger (Curtis Armstrong), who never lets mixed company
get in the way of a bodily function or impulse to scratch. These dweebs band
together to form their own fraternity and eventually coalesce under the banner
of the reluctant Lambda Lambda Lambda, a national African-American organization.
A series of prank wars ensues, with everything peaking at the climactic “Greek
Games.”
The brains-versus-brawn template and familiar social ladder shenanigans
give Revenge of the Nerds a lightweight
yet sustainable frame, and while everyone might remember only Carradine’s
donkey-ish laugh (not improvised, as
frequently reported), the truth is that the joke-writing and dialogue in the
movie is reliably strong too. The supporting cast is also a strong group, consisting
of, among others, Ted McGinley, as Stan Gable, president of the Greek Council; John
Goodman, as the goading Coach Harris, an ally of the jocks; James Cromwell, as
Mr. Skolnick, Lewis’ father; and David Wohl, as the railroaded Dean Ulich.
Everyone seems on the same page as to what type of movie is being made, and while
there are a few implausibilities here and there, the tone and pitch doesn’t veer
wildly, which is more than you can say for many modern comedies of this sort.
Presented in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen to preserve the
aspect ratio of its original theatrical presentation, this special edition
version of Revenge of the Nerds comes
with English language stereo and mono audio tracks, optional subtitles in
English and Spanish, and Spanish and French mono audio tracks to boot. The
transfer is adequate, but only that — hardly a painstaking effort. Grain and discoloration
are fairly steady, and just part and parcel with both the movie’s low-fi
concept and certainly the shrugging regard in which it was held by those
responsible for its archival.
Luckily, there’s a nice collection of extras to help bump up
this release’s collectibility, starting with a collective audio commentary track
from actors Carradine, Armstrong and Busfield and director Jeff Kanew. This is
a relaxed and self-effacing chat, again benefiting from everyone’s appreciation
of the movie for what it is. A 40-minute making-of featurette includes sit-down
interviews with the aforementioned actors (no Anthony Edwards, alas!) and many
others from off camera, and it’s a great trip down memory lane, a well-produced
and nicely packaged little affair. McGinley gets more run in a grab-bag of a
half dozen deleted scenes, while the movie’s theatrical trailer and a television
pilot (fairly jaw-dropping in its awfulness) for the aborted, reconstituted series of the
same name round out the bonus material. B+ (Movie) B+ (Disc)
 exploration of Ludwig<br />
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The Loop was a freshman show that got cut down amidst all the
 Morning Glory?</I>, of Brit pop bad boys Noel and Liam Gallagher, and their group Oasis, this title rockets viewers back to October of 1995. And it’s <B>a very compelling ride — one in which merely obsequious praise isn’t doled out just to stoke the self-satisfied opinions of sycophantic yet uninformed fans</B>.<BR><BR>No, rather this is a fairly brutal and honest reassessment of this best-selling powerhouse of a record, with the good getting a shared amount of talk time with the bad (album opener “Roll with It!” is derided as atrocious, for instance, and some other tunes and choices are hailed as mawkish and baffling). <B>Full of bombastic electric guitar feedback as well as a certain pensive languor</B>, <I>(What’s the Story) Morning Glory?</I> mixed the group’s more obvious inspirations (the Beatles, Slade) with wiggy, wah-wah guitar riffs, some Bowie-era glam rock, wall-of-sound theatrics and even a pinch of psychedelic rock. The resultant sound had some of the same reverb-resonance of Oasis’ hard-charging debut disc, <I>Definitely Maybe</I>, but ironically would become <B>best known worldwide for the radio hit ballads that it spawned, in the form of “Wonderwall,” “Don’t Look Back in Anger” and the elliptical “Champagne Supernova.”<BR><BR></B>With the use of rarely seen archive footage, long forgotten videos, brief clips of live and studio performances and interview contributions from peer musicians around at the time, this 80-minute program uncovers why Oasis’ second album is arguably their most satisfying. The aforementioned snippets are wrapped chiefly around thoughts from music critics. This may sound drab on the surface, but talking heads like author Paolo Hewitt and journalists Andrew Mueller, Pat Gilbert and Mark Beaumont have, individually and collectively, great insight into the working class romanticism and <B>unique combination of arrogance and wistfulness that has always been at the core of Oasis’ music</B>, and they make this title great for casual and dedicated Oasis fans alike.<BR><BR>DVD supplemental bonus features consist of full contributor biographies, an interactive quiz on the band and the full audio recording from the infamous time Oasis and Blur — who would engage in a goading battle of publicity for the mantle of “England’s greatest rock band” — once shared a British radio station studio in the fall of 1995, each with new singles to promote. <B>B+ (Movie) B (Disc)</B><?xml:namespace prefix = o /><o:p></o:p></p>
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