Fire on the Amazon, an exotic, South American eco-drama from 1993, is most notable for being the repository of star Sandra Bullock’s first nude scene, before she blew up (figuratively, and almost literally) in Speed, became even more body-sensitive, and then later started claiming that her first nude scene was in 2009’s The Proposal. It is not a good film, but it has — how to say this tastefully? — value, hence its new DVD reissue and Blu-ray debut.

Written and directed by Peruvian-born Luis Llosa (who within years would go on to unleash The Specialist and Anaconda upon audiences), and executive produced by Roger Corman, Fire on the Amazon is a moralizing drama about the inherent nobility of indigenous locals, a la Medicine Man. Set in Bolivia’s Amazon basin, the movie centers around the issue of massive deforestation, and how the encroachment of industrial greed threatens to destroy the lush jungle. When Rafael Santos (Eduardo Cesti), a local environmental activist and leader of the union of rubber tappers (yes, seriously), takes a stand against scurrilous development and impending disaster, he is assassinated. Devil-may-care American photojournalist R.J. O’Brien (Craig Sheffer) teams up with activist Alyssa Rothman (Bullock) to uncover a dangerous conspiracy.

First, the good news: Llosa obviously has a rooting interest — a personal connection — to the material, and the film’s location shoot affords him the opportunity to capture a great deal of convincing local color on a reasonable budget. He also elicits a performance of not insignificant quietude from Bullock, which is nice, and runs counter to the hotheaded passion one might typically expect from such a character, as written. Unfortunately, a lot of the drama is rather rank, and screeching monkeys and lurking alligators substitute for the wandering, “boo-scare” cats of any given brain-dead horror film. Sheffer, too, is an almost complete non-starter as R.J.; he’s saddled with a ridiculous ponytail, and acts “independent-minded” and ballsy by leaning forward a bit too closely in conversation, and making scrunched-up kissy faces like he’s auditioning to be Sylvester Stallone’s stand-in or something. It’s a terrible performance, one that grates quickly, and puts you on the side of whomever is trying to do him harm.

But… what about the sex scene, you ask? It’s real, and not merely some fuzzy, eight- or nine-second cross-fade. But neither is it explicit, so if you think you’re going to get wild, full frontal sex, you’ve got another thing coming. No, instead it’s this strange, minute-plus, faux-animalistic thing, in which a tweaked R.J. and Alyssa, visages smeared with ceremonial Indian face-paint, tongue each other’s bare backs in the half-light, and kind of grind and copulate like they’re aliens who just read a how-to sex manual, or are perhaps filming one of those cushion-humping parody videos for the web. Let that information be your guide if you’re contemplating a rental or purchase.

Housed in a regular Blu-ray case, Fire on the Amazon comes to Blu-ray in a 1080p transfer and 1.78:1 widescreen presentation, with a Dolby TrueHD 5.1 audio track. The disc’s main menu screen is motion-animated, and the sounds of little jungle animals burst forth with the selection of chapter stops or a set-up screen (which offers only English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing). Truth be told, the picture is solid for a title of its age and (one presumes) minimal brush-up, with no edge enhancement or artifacting issues, and consistent color throughout. The only supplemental feature is a cruddy (seemingly VHS-lifted) version of the movie’s original trailer, burnished with new title interstitials. Sans reminiscences from cast or crew, this high-definition upgrade isn’t worthy of an archival purchase, unless one is a hardcore Bullock completist. To purchase the Blu-ray via Amazon, though, click here. C- (Movie) C- (Disc)

Stress takes many forms — a headache, irritability, harsh words. But its possible metamorphosis into a bizarre physical manifestation forms the narrative spine of How to Get Ahead In Advertising, a barbed, 1988 cult classic from Bruce Robinson that helped land star Richard Grant any number of supporting comedic roles in slightly more staid, traditional Stateside product.

Skewering both the advertising industry and split-personality dramas with wit and without much pity, the movie stars Grant as slick corporate ad man Dennis Bagley, who is as cynical as he is successful. When Dennis develops an extreme case of creative block during an important campaign for acne cream, his anxieties over a boil on his neck escalate until his worries manifest as a socially mischievous evil twin head growing out of his neck. Well… at least that’s what he thinks and sees, despite fairly calm, reasoned efforts by his wife (Rachel Ward) and psychiatrist (John Shrapnel) to convince him otherwise. As his carefully constructed professional world crumbles down around him, can Dennis save himself from the demon whispering advice in his ear, or will his mental collapse completely engulf him?

As written and directed by Robinson (The Killing Fields, Withnail and I), How To Get Ahead In Advertising attacks micro-tuned capitalism with an eccentric glee and wild abandon. Robinson’s collaborator matters greatly in this endeavor. Grant’s performance is akin to watching a car in front of you on the highway skid precariously along the road’s edge, so charged is it with dangerous energy. And that’s great for a bit, truly. After a while, though, the film’s grip loosens considerably, largely because there is no outside force acting reliably upon Dennis’ stark, raving lunacy. A distressing feeling of manic sameness settles upon the movie, and it transitions from a vehicle by which to comment upon capitalism, consumerism and their impact upon one’s personality and relationships to a warped, hysterically pitched one-man show. One’s appetite for that will greatly impact their enjoyment of the film.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case with hollowed-out spindles (which is good) and a not-particularly-deeply-set (which is bad), How To Get Ahead in Advertising comes to DVD presented in a 1.78:1 widescreen aspect ratio, with a Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track. The DVD cover of this reissue seems strangely faded, and apart from a handful of auto-start trailers all slugged together there doesn’t seem to be a particularly compelling reason for its release, since there are no supplemental features at all. If someone really loves the film and doesn’t yet own it, the superb 2001 Criterion release is the way to go, honestly. Nevertheless, to purchase this version via Amazon, click here. C- (Movie) D- (Disc)

To my knowledge there is but one film featuring Odette Yustman dancing and singing along to the DiVinyls’ “I Touch Myself,”
so if one wants to see that moment, they might have to submit to And Soon the Darkness, a chick-centric remake of a
1970 British film which serves as an entirely credible entry in the canon of doomed-American travelogue tales
like Turistas.

The story follows two American girls, Stephanie (Amber Heard) and Ellie (Yustman), who embark on a bike tour through a remote part of Argentina’s countryside. After a long night of bar-hopping, the girls decide to get in some suntanning. They then get into an argument, and
Stephanie heads goes away, to cool off. When she
returns, Ellie has disappeared. The local sheriff seems not very helpful or concerned, and a panicked Stephanie soon meets Michael (Karl Urban), an American ex-pat staying at their hotel. She must then deduce whether one, both, or neither of these men can be trusted as she works to find out whether or not her worst fears regarding Ellie are true.

So, not supremely original, right? True, but director Marcos Efron has a nice sense of pacing, and for the most part knows how to construct a scene so that its menace is slow-building, and not arbitrarily the product of a lot of jump-cuts. Cinematographer Gabriel Beristain also shoots a gorgeous frame, capturing a lot of natural beauty to complement the fantastic curves and bodacious stems of the movie’s two stars. The material itself isn’t that wonderful — either in terms of the dialogue or the eventual “twists,” which are completely obvious from about the 20-minute mark. But Heard in particular gives a solid performance, slotting this little thriller as a credible rental for genre fans.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, And Soon the Darkness comes to DVD presented in 2.40:1 anamorphic widescreen, with a Dolby digital 5.1 surround sound audio track and optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles. Its bonus features are anchored by a nice audio
commentary track featuring director Efron, editor Todd Miller and director of photography Beristain; they talk about difficulties of on-location production, three hours north of Buenos Aires; Efron also talks up his roots to the material, pointing out that his father was born and raised in Argentina, and would frequently regale him with stories of its wilderness. There’s also an 11-minute video diary featuring behind-the-scenes footage from the set that confirms both Heard’s bilingual skills and the fact that a shot in the film was actually completed on a moving Segway. Oh, and there is also a small collection of deleted scenes. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C+ (Movie) C+ (Disc)

I don’t know him from the deli counter checkout guy, but Billy Zane just exudes entitled luckiness — the charmed air of a rakish guy who’s scooted by on chiseled good looks and little more, and managed to consistently fail upward, into what I imagine is a pretty comfortable lifestyle. He looks like a Tag Heuer model or perhaps a cigar company spokesman, and if he’s not busy floating through Twin Peaks‘ second season or being a jerk to Kate Winslet in Titanic, he’s bedding C-level starlets and Croatian models in smirking fashion, and fleecing and subsequently getting sued by Uwe Boll. (I’m not sure whom to root for in that latter contretemps.)

The latest piece of screen entertainment onto which Zane alights is The Hessen Conspiracy, a wan World War II flick and self-described neo-noir thriller that fancies itself a sort of swashbuckling cross between The Good German and some long-lost Indiana Jones adventure. Based on supposedly true events, it unfolds in Frankfurt in 1945. The war has been lost for Germany, and its citizens are restless, resentful, suspicious — and thus often ready to make a deal on the black market, trading in secrets that will benefit their families and themselves.

Outside the city is a large manse, Castle Kronberg, which serves as a country club of sorts for swaggering, victorious American officers. Colonel Jack Durant (Zane) and the beautiful Lieutenant Kathleen Nash (Lyne Renée) have no problem taking advantage of the situation. But when they discover a cache of priceless gems — crown jewels of Germany, Prussian riches that rival anything found in the Tower of London — the renegades must step out of their comfort zone into one of greed and danger. Traveling to New York to seeking a fence for their dazzling, dangerous steal, they get caught up in a web of spies, gangsters, royalty, millionaires and other rogue Army officers. Before long, they begin to distrust even one another.

The Hessen Conspiracy is scripted by Nicholas Meyer and Ronald Roose, and directed by Paul Breuls, and it unfolds in an entirely professional if overly self-serious manner. The production design work here, by Paul Peters, is actually fairly solid for such a modestly budgeted flick. The dialogue has little snap, though, and the performances are these airless, joyless things — partitioned off from one another, and with little sense of either fun interplay or sincere imperilment. For a movie that is about a jewel heist, however rooted in historical context, that is damning.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, The Hessen Conspiracy comes to DVD presented in 1.85:1 anamorphic widescreen, with English SDH subtitles and a Dolby digital 5.1 audio track. Apart from chapter stops, special bonus features consist of… nothing. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. D+ (Movie) D (Disc)

Somewhere, in some studio filing cabinet or on some studio hard drive, there exists the concrete data on loveable family comedies with towheaded kids and canines who go to great lengths in order to stay with their lil’ tyke owners. I know this information exists not merely because marketing helps drive the creative process amongst creative types who like to, you know, make money and eat, but because movies like Cool Dog, an innocuous family dramedy seemingly shaped to its very core by pre-sales ROI and market research dictums, continue to get made, despite the ample supply of similar titles still readily available.

Jimmy (Jackson Pace), a vibrant 10-year-old boy, lives in the tranquil
town of Eagle Rock, Louisiana, with his father (Michael Pare), stepmother (Christa Campbell, taking a break from horror flicks) and, most
importantly, his best friend — a German shepherd named Rainy. When Jimmy’s
dad gets a promotion, the family relocates to an apartment in
New York City that has a strict no-pets policy. Unwilling to let his
master go without a fight, Rainy embarks on a cross-country journey to
New York, navigating through all sorts of peril on the way.

Co-writer-director Danny Lerner has a prodigious list of producing credits (including Command Performance and a bunch of Steven Seagal movies), and as a director has made a couple schlocky shark-related flicks (my favorite may be Shark in Venice), so clearly this is his sop to “family,” a movie about adolescent friendship and devotion and all that. And it’s fairly harmless and enjoyable, in an undemanding sort of way. The doggy stagings aren’t always the most imaginative or well executed, but it plays plenty fine for those ages 7 or 8 and under — a video babysitter that peddles reassuring messages of decency and love always winning out.

Cool Dog arrives on DVD in a full frame presentation, with a 5.1 digital surround sound audio track that more than adequately handles the straightforward and relatively meager aural demands of this title. Optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles are also included, and a gallery of trailers for other First Look titles complements the feature as the only bonus material inclusion. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C- (Movie) C- (Disc)

Much more interesting than anything that actually transpires in the mildly terrible albeit titillatingly titled Chinese Kamasutra would be modern-day interviews in which some of the Chinese courtesan extras talk about their technique in mock nipple-tonguing, since that is one of the unintentionally amusing high points in this otherwise rather tedious exercise in attempted erotic drama and exotically set sexploitation.

Directed by Joe D’Amato, this 1993 Italian import centers on Joan Parker (the lovely Georgia Emerald), a good-natured but somewhat fuddy-duddy British librarian living in China who stumbles across a copy of the ancient “sex text,” digs in, lets her fingers do some walking, and then of course starts having wild, intrusive fantasies that run counter to her real-life proclivities. This yawning set-up allows for lots of unimaginative back-and-forth, as Joan spurns the advances of a Chinese colleague, but also dreams of lesbian canoodling and the like.

The aforementioned Emerald is a natural beauty, but not much of an actress (it’s unsurprising to learn she has no other screen credits), even though she basically just has to approximate a blank slate. The other performances here are similarly challenged, and the material never becomes textured or interesting in any manner beyond the obvious, which is to say involving sporadically unclothed females. Basically, Chinese Kamasutra is a bore, which is pretty damning and problematic, given its title.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Chinese Kamasutra comes to DVD presented on a region-free disc in a letterboxed widescreen 1.66:1 aspect ratio, complete with a modern-day cover model who is not in the film, and bears a badly Photoshopped lower back tattoo to boot. Its audio options include a dubbed English language Dolby digital stereo 2.0 track and the original Italian language track as well, also in Dolby digital stereo 2.0. The transfer is grainy, and likely not from original film elements. Apart from a dozen motion-animated chapter stops, its sole supplemental feature is an unprocessed (i.e., time-coded), 44-second deleted scene. Amusingly, Chen Kaige is actually credited as the movie’s second assistant cameraman, but I’m thinking it was not the director of Farewell My Concubine. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. D (Movie) D+ (Disc)

Going to school in indefatigable style on Ice Cube’s lessons of crossover career management and branding, rapper and erstwhile drug dealer 50 Cent has transformed himself into a peddler of not only music and ring-tones, but also water, fitness supplements and, of course, movies. Ergo, the market for something like Gun, a slickly shot weapons-trafficking actioner that brings nothing terribly new to the table, but does at least go through the motions with energy and a streamlined clarity of purpose.

The movie unfolds in Detroit, and director Jessy Terrero — working from a script by his star, actually — uses that fact, in ways both nakedly transparent and occasionally sincere, to pump up the film’s zeitgeist quotient. Gun-runner Rich (50 Cent) and his crew oversee a vast arms-laundering operation, in part by purchasing stolen, illegal and otherwise “hot” weapons on the cheap from pawn shops, and turning around and selling them on mark-up. They terrify the populace with their aggressive violence, as characterized by an opening in which some rivals are flushed out of a nightclub and mowed down in the middle of the street.

When Rich’s old friend and fellow criminal Angel (Val Kilmer), who 10 years earlier saved his life in a gun-and-drugs exchange gone bad, drifts back into his life, Rich welcomes Angel back into the fold, which makes his longtime henchmen paranoid and on edge. Things get worse when it becomes obvious there’s a snitch in the group, and
two local detectives (James Remar and Paul Calderon), working both the case itself and trying to fend off the territorial-investigative advances of the ATF, start closing in.

Unsurprisingly, Gun has swagger to spare, a result of its star’s sly charisma, as well as some savvy casting in bit parts (including Danny Trejo). But Kilmer works in subversive fashion to give the movie a more settled sense of reality, and his interactions with 50 Cent really help ground the film, to the extent that anything surprising happens within the confines of its who’s-the-rat? storyline. Otherwise, apart from some fine, saturated work by cinematographer Zeus Morand, there’s about what one would expect here — lots of bravado, agitated cops tired of being handcuffed by legal boundaries, and some characteristically ridiculous “gangsta” discharging of firearms. Oh, and the requisite sex scene is discreetly shot so as to save AnnaLynne McCord (a ringer for a young Rene Russo) from any wildly embarrassing screen-caps, though Mr. Cent (billed here in hybrid fashion as Curtis “50 Cent” Jackson) does bare his butt, which I’m sure is of interest to someone.

Housed in a regular snap-shut Blu-ray case, Gun comes to the format presented in 1080p high definition, in 2.35:1 anamorphic widescreen. The transfer is truly superb, actually, free of any edge enhancement, blocking or other artifacts, and characterized by hard-edged clarity throughout. Sound is delivered via a DTS-HD 5.1 master audio track. While certainly serviceable throughout, the mix levels here seem a bit off, or perhaps just marred by typical disproportionate genre leveling; gunshots and explosions are given a ridiculous decibel bump that will as often as not have one reaching for their remote control. Optional English SDH and Spanish subtitles are also available, and the film is partitioned by a dozen chapter stops under a motion-enabled main menu screen. Apart from an inclusion of the movie’s trailer, however, there are unfortunately no supplemental bonus features contained herein. To purchase the Blu-ray disc via Amazon, click here; to purchase the film via iTunes, meanwhile, click here. C (Movie) C (Disc)

Sometimes a movie’s title really says everything, and hardly any formal review is necessary. Such is the case with Vintage Lesbian Erotica.

A Cult Epics home video title that collects two-plus hours of peep show reels and other naughty black-and-white sapphic short films spanning almost 40 years, from the 1920s into the 1960s, this slapdash set is a weird peek behind the curtain and under the bedsheets mostly of our grandmothers’ generation, and of arguably little value, even as some sociocultural relic.

Unfolding in bedrooms, opium dens, parks and other outdoor locations, the almost two dozen shorts here are fairly wide-ranging in set-up and accoutrement, let’s say, and yet also curiously of a piece. A small handful are surreal (one incorporates body painting), but the majority of are of the wiggly-silly variety, and seem to play like an older variation on Girls Gone Wild, with women groping each other for giggles or play-acting and doing things that they believe men want to see. But hey, a banana does get worked into the mix, for those wondering. Still, none of this is particularly interesting or titillating, apart from the thoughts it provokes in regards to the cameramen and production teams behind this material.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Vintage Lesbian Erotica comes to DVD on a region-free disc, and is presented in a matte-framed 1.33:1 full frame aspect ratio. The quality of the source material varies widely, as one might surmise, but it certainly doesn’t look as though there has been any effort made to clean it up. Much of it is flat-out terrible, sub-VHS grade. The audio track also fluctuates a good bit, since some of the shorts are accompanied by madcap orchestral selections, and others barely scored at all. A main menu screen gives way to a separate selection screen which purports to divvy up the selections by decade, but this is needlessly muddled (sections within other sections), and in French to boot, which makes little sense, given the international, ahem, spread of the material. Finally, there are no other supplemental bonus features. So is it really true that Vintage Lesbian Erotica elicits chiefly a yawn? Yes, yes it is. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, however, do your thing and click here. D (Movie) F (Disc)

Inspired by Biblical accounts of the massive, gold- and copper-flecked splendor of his temples and palaces, countless treasure-seekers (and more than a few Hollywood adventure story peddlers) have set off in search of King Solomon’s mines, trekking through burning deserts and scaling the forbidding mountains of Africa and the Levant. Yet the actual evidence supporting the existence of Solomon and other early kingdoms in the Bible has been highly controversial. In fact, there is so little physical evidence of the kings who ruled Israel and Edom that many contend that they are no more real than King Arthur. The PBS-fronted edu-doc Quest for Solomon’s Mines attempts to sort out some of this mystery.

Produced and directed by Graham Townsley through National Geographic Television, the hour-long Quest for Solomon’s Mines offers up a couple new clues buried in the pockmarked desert of Jordan, as it tries to pin down the source(s) of the great material wealth that shaped regional political might in the Dead Sea Valley, and helped empower the first mighty Biblical kingdoms. As with tele-news magazine reporting, this program blends speculative historic reenactments with some talking head footage, in this case from University of California-San Diego Levantine Archaeology Lab hands Mohammad Najjar, Thomas Levy and others. The carbon dating of new-ish archaeological excavations at Khirbet en Nahas bring up some interesting facts, illuminating an era and making a convincing case that slave labor — and with it probably all the attendant human rights abuses and faulty criminal convictions, to ensure a large enough workforce — powered a regional rise much earlier than previously known. It’s an interesting title, even if its conclusions are ultimately rather glancing.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Quest for Solomon’s Mines comes to DVD presented in 1.78:1 widescreen, with an English language stereo audio track, divided into seven chapters. There are unfortunately no supplemental features of note. To purchase the DVD, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or click here; if it’s Amazon that’s your thing, meanwhile, click here. C+ (Movie) C- (Disc)

The lives and sordid actions of serial killers are so far beyond the pale that they rather understandably make rich fodder for movies, with Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Dahmer and of course Aileen Wuornos — for which Charlize Theron won an Oscar in Monster — getting recent screen treatments. Next up is John Wayne Gacy, who serves as the imprisoned boogeyman in Dear Mr. Gacy, a film that puts a strange twist on the inside-the-mind-of-a-killer sub-genre.

Based on a curious but apparently true story, as chronicled in
the bestselling book The Last Victim, Dear Mr. Gacy recounts the experiences of a headstrong 18-year-old college student, Jason Moss (Jesse Moss), and his relationship with the notorious Gacy (William Forsythe), an Iowa businessman, short-order cook and community volunteer who got demented mileage out of frequently parading around in a clown costume. As part of a school assignment, Moss sends a letter to Gacy in prison, portraying himself as a vulnerable kid, and hoping to work his way into his psyche and get him to confess his crimes. (Gacy initially admitted to many murders, but later recanted, explaining away the more than two dozen bodies found in a crawl space in his house as part of a strange police conspiracy.)

Suspicious at first, Gacy subjects Moss to a series of tests, but is won over by some beefcake photos and collect-call telephone conversations, coming to eventually trust him, and value his friendship. Moss’ preoccupation with Gacy somewhat understandably confounds his
girlfriend Alyssa (Emma Lahana), and his younger brother is a bit creeped out too, when Gacy starts requesting letters from him. What follows is a bizarre game of psychological cat-and-mouse between two manipulators, in which Gacy alternately cajoles, rants, rages and urges the youngster who he believes is his new friend to engage in street hustling, while Moss finds his life turned upside down in unexpected ways. When it seems things couldn’t get even more unusual, Gacy’s death row appeal is denied, and he sends an invitation to Moss to visit him in prison for a private meeting.

Moss (The Uninvited, Final Destination 3) does a capable job as… Moss (weird twist, that), in that he basically has to play a smart kid who’s way in over his head — who has a game plan, but not a back-up plan (or more deeply seated psychological mooring) for when Gacy starts to pull some really sick shit. In this regard, Moss ably communicates the overwhelmed nature and quiet interior panic of his character (or his acting shortcomings do the same thing). Forsythe (The Devil’s Rejects), meanwhile, has a Rolodex of sickos and weirdos to his credit, and while he’s obviously given the showier role, he seems to intuitively understand — even if the quality of the writing he’s given is sometimes lacking — that since he’s playing Gacy already incarcerated he’s not playing a “monster” so much as Gacy playing another character (aggrieved victim of justice and all that), lashing out in weird, distasteful ways.

The basic problems with Dear Mr. Gacy seem to stem from a sweetheart adherence to its source material — to not step outside of Moss’ life and his interactions with Gacy, and render judgment or at least deeper shading upon Gacy himself. The film ends on a strange note, too, with footage of the real-life Jason Moss appearing on a talk show, chatting about his motivations for writing the serial killer. Then a brief textual overlay informs us that he took his own life only several years later. This coda undercuts Dear Mr. Gacy, and makes its dramatic machinations seem entirely empty, because clearly there was something deeper going on with Moss — something that this film sidesteps entirely.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Dear Mr. Gacy 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 and Spanish subtitles. Along with the teaser and theatrical preview trailers, the disc’s only other supplemental feature is a 22-minute making-of featurette, which looks into the production, and features interviews with cast and crew as well as one of Gacy’s childhood friends, Barry Boschelli, who walks and talks with Forsythe. To purchase the DVD via Amazon, click here. C+ (Movie) C+ (Disc)

Every year, over a million visitors are drawn to the Salisbury Plain in southern England to gaze upon a mysterious circle of stones. Meanwhile, in grade and middle school classrooms across the United States, scores of bored, unchallenged kids steal away from their peers during library-mandated “study time” to thumb through picture-heavy texts of the same famous site, their imaginations fired by the extravagance of varied possibility.

Yes, Stonehenge may be the best-known and most mysterious relic of prehistory, which makes the new short-form, NOVA-stamped documentary Secrets of Stonehenge both wildly intriguing and more than a bit frustrating. First, a bit of history: excavations from the mid-20th century revealed that the structure — with some stones standing 20 feet tall, and ranging in weight from seven to 45 tons — was built in stages, and that it dates back some 5,000 years, to the late Stone Age. The greater meaning of the monument, however, was until recently anyone’s guess, spawning all sorts of fantastic theories, inclusive of astrological worship, human sacrifices or even extraterrestrial visitation.

Running just under an hour, Secrets of Stonehenge takes a scientific tack, following a team of researchers as they attempt to get to the bottom of how prehistoric people quarried, transported, sculpted and erected the giant stones — some of which came from Wales, over 150 miles away. Archeologists Mike Pitts and Mike Parker Pearson, of the University of Sheffield, are able to give interesting speculative on-site overview, even as they refine their theories a bit based on things they uncover in fresh excavations.

Most interesting is the inarguable linking of Stonehenge to fellow Neolithic settlement Durrington Walls, which with its henge and large timber circle likely served as a gateway touchstone to the living, while Stonehenge was a complementary spot for clan members moved on, since rock had stronger ancestral connotations. Less engaging are curiously inexact experiments in stone movement, along with funny pronunciations of the words “cosmos” and “skeletal.” Also, somewhat damningly for those with a more rooted anthropological curiosity, Secrets of Stonehenge doesn’t delve satisfyingly into the day-to-day lives of the people, spanning generations, who crafted this amazing structure. Either way, though, there’s at least some truth in the title here, if not a complete and definitive rewriting of the story of Stonehenge.

Housed in a regular plastic Amaray case, Secrets of Stonehenge comes to  DVD with a static menu screen, split into seven chapters and presented in 1.33:1 full screen. Optional English SDH subtitles are included, but there are no other supplemental features. To purchase Secrets of Stonehenge, phone (800) PLAY-PBS, or click here. Or if Amazon is totally and irretrievably your thing, then click here, by all means. B- (Movie) C- (Disc)

Niche market fans of 1970s erotica have found a willing enabler in Impulse Pictures, which has done well cycling through a variety of softcore European titles, inclusive of the Schoolgirl Report series, which hails from Germany. Its latest release, the seventh volume in the series, again presents a triptych of unrelated segments, all characteristically involving some combination of voyeurism, burgeoning sexual curiosity and power imbalance.

The stories here (a student, in love with her teacher, switches her identity to bed the unsuspecting older guy; a sexy hitchhiker lures men into sex in order to rob them) are fairly straightforward, and meant, in their own tongue-in-cheek fashion, to serve as warnings of surging adolescent libidinal impulses. This flick is from 1974, and the girls are certainly attractive, but the set-ups are laborious, and the acting of course terrible. Caveat emptor, and all that.

Housed in a regular Amaray case, Schoolgirl Report: Volume 7 comes to DVD presented in 1.66 anamorphic widescreen, with a Dolby digital 2.0 mono audio track. Its uncut German aural presentation comes complemented by a set of newly translated, removable English subtitles. There are unfortunately no bonus supplemental features, dinging both this title’s collectibility and its value for those wishing to merely dip a toe in the sexploitation genre. C+ (Movie) C- (Disc)

I previously touched on the wide variety of of musical sub-genres present in American life, and the fervent (albeit to-scale) embrace of said niche markets means there’s room for all sorts of CD and DVD compilations that celebrate that merged diversity and commingled ethnicity.

A spin-off/continuation of the previous quartet of releases from 20th Century Entertainment, this new batch of two-hour concert clip titles includes a separate break-out look at blues (a bit of a cheat/overlap with the rhythm and blues title of earlier this fall, but so be it), as well as DVDs spotlighting dixieland jazz, soul and folk music. Each is engaging in its own way, but the folk and blues discs are probably the standout efforts of this batch, focusing as they do on deeper cuts that chart the hybrid influences (and future influence) of these styles. The soul title, meanwhile, hosted by Leon Isaac Kennedy, is a groovy testament to the sway of secular testifying, with James Brown’s “Payback,” Gladys Knight and the Pips’ “Midnight Train to Georgia” and Ben E. King’s “Spanish Harlem” all serving amongst the highlights.

Housed in regular plastic Amaray cases, each title in this collection is presented on a region-free disc in 1.33:1 full frame and Dolby stereo. Given the wide berth of sourcing, the video quality of the performances varies a bit, understandably, and while most are presented in color, black-and-white archival footage and photographic stills are also interspersed throughout. There exists no additional supplemental bonus material. For more information, click the individual hyperlinks above, or click here. B (Movies) C (Discs)