Disgracefully Overdue Face-Saving Blu-ray Consumer Guide, October 2012

How did this happen? With the best of intentions, I threw myself into the ostensible May Consumer Guide with relish after posting the April edition, and then, as Joseph Heller said, something happened. More than something, a few things. The necessities of making a living. The warming weather. Then the public pool opened. Then...I split my big toe open on a steel step and got twenty stitches in that toe, and, with no swimming options and limited exercise options, I figured, "Well, great, I'll finally get that Consumer Guide sorted. Hell, I might be able to get a COUPLE sorted if this thing doesn't heal up quick." But something else got a hold of me. I was possessed by an artistic impulse that consumed all of my attention and I thus finished a book that I'd been dicking around with for too long. So there was that. In the meantime the discs piled up, the notes stagnated.

So, I took what was supposed to have been some time off to catch up and produce this largely not-exactly-entirely-current-release-oriented assessment, to clear the deck and to maintain the integrity of my brand, damn it. The main problem with trying to produce one of these things on a consistent monthly basis is that it's not remunerative. I don't understand why. Blu-ray market too esoteric? Writer too esoteric? Who can say. If things don't get too distracting I hope to have a nifty holiday CG up before Christmas. I'll say right now so far that Universal Classic Monsters box is looking good. Enjoy. 

 

Black Sunday (Kino Lorber)

Eventually the enthusiast’s, or if you prefer, cultist’s cry of “Fantastic! The chef d’oeuvre of [insert name of cinematic object of reverence] is finally out on Blu ray, and it looks…fantastic” starts to sound like an inverted claim of “Wolf!” even among the converted, or at least the curious. But I’m not just being contrarian when I admit to being slightly underwhelmed by this high-definition version of Mario Bava’s 1960 breakthrough (auteur-wise) picture. This is an excellent presentation, don’t get me wrong. Of an English-language only version, in not-quite 1.66 framing, and…still showing speckles, wear, damage. Film restoration has not quite caught up with B pictures yet, and there were times watching this when, for the first time in a long time, I felt an awareness of the ways in which this picture and its maker were NOT able to transcend budgetary constraints. I don’t know if it’s the high-def, I don’t know if it’s advanced age and/or aesthetic calcification, I don’t know if it’s because for some reason or another this movie resides in my film memory a little too close to Murnau’s Nosferatu, but there you have it. Still. It’s Black Sunday and it’s a good looking version—an excellent looking version, above-mentioned imperfections notwithstanding—and it has an excellent audio commentary from Bava biographer Tim Lucas, so, there’s all that. —A-

The Color of Money (Disney)

Hey, remember that Popular Mechanics article I did a few years ago where I talked about Scorsese editor Thelma Schoonmaker agonizing a bit over whether to use the awesome powers of digital to turn some aqua-felted pool tables a little more green, and deciding that maybe it was okay after all? Well, they studio powers that be finally got around to running off a Blu-ray from that master. And it looks very delightful indeed. Scorsese has said that he wanted to shoot this Hustler sequel in black-and-white but was soon resigned to the fact that that wasn’t gonna happen; what we have here is a movie with muted, almost pastel colors and long shadows. But not a case of out-and-out desaturation. Bare-bones in the extras department but very handsome looking, and a pretty good movie, too; its compromises do not look like a very big deal at all, which is funny considering the cries of sacrilege that were raised by some at the time concerning the very idea of sequelizing the earlier poolhall classic. Now the picture looks more like a product of The Hustler’s era than this one. Bare-bones. —B+

UPDATE: In the wake of Bob Harris' scathing assessment of this disc (http://www.hometheaterforum.com/t/321398/a-few-words-about-the-color-of-money-in-blu-ray) I am given pause, and wonder if my assessment was made in too much haste. Please take the above with a grain of salt, and I'll investigate further and post an update in a separate post in the near future, I hope.)

The Conformist (Arrow, Region-B-locked U.K. import)

Blu-ray mavens very reasonably take exception to slathered DNR and its echo artifacts and more. But sometimes, when calling attention to it, they don’t, to my way of seeing,  take into sufficient account the fact that one doesn’t actually watch a movie on Blu-ray stepping through it frame-by-frame, the better to catch egregious digital image artifacts. Motion pictures move. And so, despite there being a certain amount of DNR softness on this disc, the overall viewing experience of the visually sumptuous Bertolucci film is a pretty impressive one. It is certainly the best it’s ever looked in home video format. Do I hope for a corrected, more carefully restored/fixed version somewhere down the line? I do. In the meantime, I do not regret purchasing this, because when I feel like watching the movie, it offers a better-than-watchable presentation. —B+

Demetrius and the Gladiators (Twilight Time)

The sequel to The Robe and a further demo of the Wonders Of Cinemascope, it has a weird low-rent quality that’s attributable I guess to Victor Mature’s presence in the lead (sorry Victor) and a more pronounced sword-and-sandal vibe that the prior picture. In any event, it doesn’t push the viewer to convert to Catholicism a whole lot, that’s for sure. Delmer Daves’ sure hand behind the camera notwithstanding, this old “4:30 Movie” fave is one goofy picture. It completely wastes Debra Paget, casting her as a virginal future martyr who does ZERO snake dancing or anything.  But it looks pretty great on this disc: Really solid colors. Good compression. Check out Susan Hayward in lavender. A little subdued in the saturation department compared to The Robe, but still pretty wonderful. —B

Desiree (Twilight Time)

This one, if you’ll excuse the inexcusable sexist metaphor, really separates the men from the boys in the CinemaScope festishizing department. Because it’s kind of a terrible movie. Marlon Brando gives one of his least-engaged performances (he might have been tranquilized, or thinking of buying a house) as Napoleon in this Henry-Koster-directed snoozefest. As he had also helmed The Robe, this gig gave him further opportunity to expand on his theory of widescreen. In Contempt Fritz Lang famously complains that the anamorphic format is good only for shooting “snakes and funerals.” Well, Lang forgoes coronations. And receptions after coronations. This motion picture seems replete with them. On the plus side, it’s a beautiful transfer of excellent materials; if one is sufficiently struck by the particularities of a CinemaScope frame, abstract or not, and has no need of a conventional movie to justify them, this serves a fine function. —B

Harold and Maude (Criterion)

I don’t remember the movie being quite this beautiful when I saw it as more or less a child, but I do remember every video version of it up to now being sufficiently ugly as to make me wonder what it was I saw in the movie in the first place, even. Anyway, now I know. Such a wonderful autumnal look throughout, imposing a sort-of reality principle on what is, I finally realize, a work of magical realism. In terms of director Hal Ashby’s work, it’s way closer to Being There than to The Landlord. That’s why I don’t mind the kind of dated counter-cultureish anti-military stuff; it KNOWS it’s outlandish caricature stuff. The larger point being, that this kind of presentation (not even getting into the extras, which are wonderful) is so essential because it can make you see a movie with fresh eyes. It’s not a repeat viewing, it’s a rediscovery. I’m grateful for Criterion for helping me rediscover this movie and for everything else they do. —A+

In The Mood For Love (Criterion)

This ended up in  pretty high position in the Sight And Sound “50 Greatest Films Of All Time” poll, and there was a lot of grumbling about this on blogs and social media. And I got it. “Sure,” I said, “It’s PRETTY great, but it’s not Wong Kar-Wai’s best movie.” Then I got this Blu-ray upgrade and watched it. In the immortal words of Billy Strayhorn, “oh yes I was wrong.”  Well, not WRONG, exactly. This still might not be Kar-Wai’s best film. But damn, is it strong, and unusual, and beautiful. I understand that a lot of his signature visuals have been picked at by so many carrion-esque commercial and music video directors, but that’s not his fault. And the fact is that they work here, and that he builds up such a tender, fragile, and yet very definite, emotional climax with his uncannily beautiful images and magnificent manipulation of sound that this certainly does achieve greatness, and the disc’s high-def upgrade is at times almost literally breathtaking. Watch it and tell me I’m wrong now. —A+

Jaws (Universal)

Helluva movie, that’s for sure. Interesting to hear that even back in the day John Williams couldn’t resist laying it on thick…not with the scary music stuff so much but with the borderline-insipid Gorton’s fisherman sailing music every time Quint pulls in and out of port. Said music is ever more enveloping on the otherwise very well-mixed  surround soundtrack. The image has been un-fucked-around with to the extent that you’d think a very pure filmmaker supervised the transfer. An exceptional package. —A+

 Lady for a Day (Inception Media)

Even going to the website doesn’t tell you much about who this “Inception Media” outfit is, but this seemingly anomalous release from the company is a gift horse cinephiles do not need to look in the mouth. Unlike a lot…hell, almost ALL…releases of TCM-type movies that aren’t actually put out on disc in conjunction with TCM, this rendition of a too-little-seen 1933 Frank Capra movie is really quite beautiful, very sharply detailed black-and-white with that luscious silvery quality relished by many of us. And  it’s  crackerjack picture, too. Adapted from a Damon Runyon story with the untransferable-to-Hollywood-title Madame Gimp, it's an exemplary mix of pre-code sass and Capra corn filled with memorable characters played by ace character actors. Massive. I’m not asking questions: I’m just preordering the company’s next vintage title, the British comedy On Approval.—A

 The Last of England (Kino Lorber)

Derek Jarman’s magisterially pissed-off  cinematic cri de couer contra Thatcher’s Britain is an assemblage of footage mostly shot on smaller gauge formats and blown up to 35mm, and this was of course entirely purposeful. Oversaturated colors, lots of grain, compromised focus; that, among other things, is what these images are made of. This disc presents a transfer that is not as entirely specific as I might have liked: often the amplified grain gives way to a more digital  variety of smear. If it happened too often it’d be annoying, but…As Godard demonstrated in In Praise Of Love, digital smear has some of the same expressive qualities as amplified grain. Hence, this rendition works damn well. A paradox of  the medium, for sure. —B+

 

The Lost Weekend (Eureka!/Masters of Cinema Region-B-locked U.K. import)

I applaud the U.K. label’s burst of enthusiasm for golden-age Hollywood fare: this is one of three such pictures Blu-rayed at the same time by MOC, the other two being Lifeboat and Double Indemnity. Here’s also to John F. Seitz, one of the very best cinematographers Billy Wilder ever worked with, and the guy who made the blacks in the shadows of this dark film practically palpable. There is a background contrast flicker thang going on here, and it’s very much in keeping with the film-going-through-a-shutter-at-24-frames-per-second issue, so it has its integrity and place. And once you’re absorbed in the drama you don’t much notice it. I have yet to look at the aforementioned titles that were part of this particular release spurt but I’m awfully excited to. Extras are extensive and offer some unexpected stuff, as is customary for this company. —A+

Magical Mystery Tour (Apple)

Richard Lester, after directing the Fab Four in A Hard Day’s Night and Help!, opined in a subsequent interview that the fellows make their next movie themselves, divorced from the “cult of film.” This television film, pulled together to rally the creative forces in the wake of manager Brian Epstein’s death, shows that Lester’s idea was maybe half-good. “We made it up as we went along,” Paul McCartney says right off the bat in his, good lord, director’s commentary. This possibly lysergic-inflected takeoff on a British tradition (the mystery tour, a day’s outing where the passengers don’t know where they’re going) is a mess, and at every turn you’re reminded of how much a surer hand and eye behind the camera and lights would have helped things. Hence, an artifact for Beatlemaniacs only, which category I am proud to almost fall into. The movie looks the way it looks, which is very casually-deployed 16mm style, where the lens flares are wholly accidental and no less lovely for it. The Surround versions of the (great) songs are pretty happening, Macca’s commentary is relaxed and not all that cutesy (he sounds, well, old) and the other extras, which include a genuinely informative “About The Supporting Cast” short film with awesome Ivor Cutler footage,  and a cut Traffic number (as in the band, with young fresh-faced Steve Winwood), are pretty happening too. —A 

The Mizoguchi Collection (Artificial Eye Region-B-locked U.K. import)

I can hear you now: “A four-film Mizoguchi box set on Blu-ray? What the fuck is up?” But don’t get too terribly excited. This British issue duplicated two of the four titles in the domestic, standard-def Criterion/Eclipse collection Mizoguchi’s Fallen Women. And, going by A-B comparisons of those pictures, 1936’s Osaka Elegy and  Sisters of the Gion, both are the same transfers. The beauty of the movies themselves aside, they’re not much to write home about: so soft that the improvement provided by the HD upgrade on the British material is barely discernable. (Of the two Sisters of the Gion has the overall better picture, which kinda bites if you prefer Osaka Elegy, as this reviewer does. It is not entirely surprising that the postwar (1946) Utamaro And His Five Women looks the best in this batch. 1939’s The Story Of The Last Chrysanthemums, alas, is super blotchy. But it’s also The Story Of The Last Chrysanthemums. —B-

Project X (Olive)

I maybe shoulda waited to finish this Guide and taken the time and filled in a more “distinguished” release from Olive, something like The Sterile Cuckoo or even My Son John, but let’s face it: releases such as this, a late William-Castle-directed sci-fi item made in 1967, are part of the appeal of the Olive brand. And we’ve got a couple more respectable Olive titles down the ways  anyways. This, Project X matches a sub-Dickean plotline to a very-television friendly cast that included Harold Gould, of all people, as something of a bad guy. The time-travel hijinks are abetted by very peculiar pre-psychedelic effects by Hanna-Barbara. These have to be seen to be believed. In a sense the whole movie does. The look is a little garish, evoking TV-movie-of-its-time-ness. As novelty Blu-rays go, not terrible by a certain standard, but some of your friends might look at you funny for owning it. —B-

Re-Animator (Image)

Oy, how many video versions of this have there been, anyway? And why do we continue to keep buying them? I don’t know the answer to the first question, and the answer to the second question has the initials “B.C.” This is a movie that it’s likely impossible to see with fresh eyes, and as an exceptionally well-made low budget enterprise, not shot in such a way that upping the definition is going to result in anything revelatory. But it’s a horror classic in excellent digital shape so if you’re ever loved it, or B.C., you should definitely get it. —A

Rio Grande (Olive)

This 1950 picture is arguably the slightest in the informal Ford “cavalry trilogy” that also include Fort Apache and She Wore A Yellow Ribbon. Ribbon is not yet out on Blu-ray, but Apache is, and as it is like Rio Grande in black and white, it makes a good point of comparison. Fort Apache, on Warner, has deeper blacks. Rio Grande doesn’t exactly tend to the soft side, but in some scenes one feels a bit sharpness-deprived. But I’m being picky here. This is passable throughout, and often quite a bit better. Ben Johnson and Harry Carey, Jr. at their cutest, and a rip-roaring Dale Evans song, “Aha San Antone” sung by Ken Curtis/Sons of the Pioneers. (UPDATE: In my haste to mention the participation of the Sons of the Pioneers in this motion picture, I elided a crucial point and said the Sons of the Pioneers sang this song. It is depicted in the film, rather [as a terse commenter points out], as being sung by Curtis, Carey, Jr., and Johnson. Who know's who's REALLY singing it, though.) What more do you want? Extras? Forget it, this is an Olive title… —A

The Royal Tenenbaums (Criterion)

For home use, Wes Anderson’s movies need Blu-ray like the flowers need the rain, like the winter needs the spring, etcetera. The only way the company could have improved this package would have been to get the rights to that Anthology rendition of “I’m Looking Through You” and slap it back on the final scene. Anyway, buy with confidence. —A+

 

Summer Interlude (Criterion)

I’m very much in the midst of exploring early Ingmar Bergman, and the takeaway I’m getting is that from the very start of his moviemaking career in the 1940s, he had complete confident control of his technical apparatus. Every shot, every camera movement, every cut, is absolutely sure and absolutely right. This 1951 tragi-romance is his tenth feature film, and it moves along like a sailboat cutting through the calmest of waters on a fleet but quiet wind. The digital restoration here is absolutely stunningly beautiful You see how gorgeous the cover shot is? Every frame of this disc looks that good. Incredible. —A+ 

Too Late Blues (Olive)

In which John Cassavetes, fresh (kind of)  from the very raw and real and fraught Shadows, tries to bring his preferred mode of filmmaking to Hollywood. The result is an odd, not at all bad picture about jazzbo Bobby Darin’s quest not to sell out…an actual concern for Darin, so he brings some real insight to the role. The Olive Blu-ray is solid, not very picturesque. But the picturesque was never Cassavetes’ bag anyway. If you are/were building a J.C. library, this fills a very substantial hole in it. —B+ 

Yellow Submarine (Apple)

This charming trifle doesn’t boast the most technically advanced ethos of animation you’ve ever encountered, which in a way is why a really technically advanced digital rendering of it is the only way to go. A lot of the scenes, as befits the psychedelic moment in which this was made pit very strong almost primary colors against each other and on top of white backgrounds. For the optimum effect, stuff bleeding into other stuff is discouraged. This Blu-ray is brilliant at that, and the results are gorgeous, eye-popping. The remixed soundtrack is well-executed and, again, exceptionally appropriate to a trippy gestalt. The original mono mix continues to work well. While its cuteness isn’t to everyone’s taste, again, if you’re a Beatle person, essential. —A

Comments

[Zach]

@ John M - no worries, and I agree with the overall thrust of your comment. It's easy to assume, with someone as good as Anderson, that he's able to spontaneously create such stuff as the conclusion of Tenenbaums. But I'm sure there's plenty of trial and error, there is frustration, there are dead ends. It's a process, like the fella says - but the magic is in making it seem so inevitable, so perfect.