Every Tuesday, discriminating viewers are confronted with a flurry of choices: new releases on disc and on-demand, vintage and original movies on any number of streaming platforms, catalog titles making a splash on Blu-ray or 4K. This biweekly column sifts through all of those choices to pluck out the movies most worth your time, no matter how you’re watching.
This week’s very busy round-up of new movies on disc and digital includes Sunday night’s big winner, four new additions to the Criterion Collection, one of the best comedies of the ‘90s, and three showcases for one of the brightest stars of the ‘30s and ‘40s. Let’s take a peek.
ON NETFLIX:
“Synchronic”: Directors Justin Benson and Aaron Moorhead conduct a clever act of stylistic sleight of hand in their new thriller, with early scenes that seem to meander, guided less by plot than a pervading feeling of things careering out of control—a palpable dread, bordering on nihilism. And then, dazzlingly, it snaps into focus, and the viewer suddenly understands why hazy anxiety was so necessary, and where they’re going next. Like their earlier genre picture “The Endless” (and its clearest influence, “Primer”), “Synchronic” can best be described as egghead indie sci-fi, in which the ideas are as exciting as the effects – and the characters (as played by Anthony Mackie and Jamie Dornan) are unique and compelling.
ON BLU-RAY / DVD / VOD / HULU:
“Nomadland”: In the opening scene of 2020’s newly minted Best Picture, Frances McDormand finds a coat. It’s a small, quiet, and (at that point) unexplained beat, but she turns that simple moment into the most evocative act; we don’t know anything about this woman yet, but she’s just told us everything. McDormand (who won her third Oscar for her work here) is an actor who thrives in complicated dialogue, yet her most powerful moments in Best Director winner Chloé Zhao’s marvelous drama, only her third after “Songs My Brother Taught Me” and 2017’s tremendous “The Rider,” are entirely wordless – minute-long monologues cannot tell all the stories she tells, in her face and her eyes. The alchemy of this casting had to be just right; the wrong actor might overplay these scenes and outplay the real people Zhao surrounds her with, or drain away too much personality and end up condescending to the material. But both McDormand and David Strathairn find just the right notes, blending with their surroundings and co-stars to create a moving, affecting portrait of a fascinating yet rarely dramatized subculture. (Includes deleted scenes, featurette, and Q&A.)
ON BLU-RAY:
“Memories of Murder”: Bong Joon-ho’s second feature directorial effort is a startling piece of craftsmanship, showcasing an artist already confident in his considerable abilities. In theory, it’s a police procedural, as a hotshot small-town police detective investigates a serial killer. But Bong and Shim Sung-bo’s screenplay has an unexpected existential streak, as the case stretches on for more than a decade, with police chasing down loose strands and dead ends with an increasing sense of doomed desperation, become so deeply buried in this mystery, they lose their footing. Tough and powerful, with an ending that is, in its own quiet way, absolutely devastating. (Includes audio commentaries, deleted scenes, interviews, featurettes, student film, trailers, TV spot, and essay by Ed Park.)
“Quick Change”: This 1990 mash-up of caper movie and urban hellscape comedy is, to date, Bill Murray’s first and last feature directorial credit, shared with screenwriter Howard Franklin. And that’s a shame – not only because it might be his best comic vehicle (I’d argue it definitely is), not only because it so keenly understands how to utilize the Murray persona onscreen (though it does), but because, on the basis of this one credit, Murray is a genuinely gifted filmmaker. He mines his opening setup for maximum laughs (and then abandons it the second it might get stale), he’s generous with his co-stars (Randy Quaid has never been better, and Geena Davis has never been funnier), and with the help of the great cinematographer Michael Chapman, he conveys the grime and misery of NYC on the verge of the Giuliani era. In other words, it’s a real movie; it’s also a great one. (Includes trailer)
“Heartworn Highways”: “They gone out there and got mod-rin,” complains the old-timer, a one-line encapsulation of the old guard’s objection to the mid-‘70s movement of “outlaw country,” captured at the time in this marvelous documentary by James Szalapski. He takes in a strong cross-section of acts – Townes Van Zandt, Steve Earle, David Allen Coe, Steve Young, Guy Clark, The Charlie Daniels Band – some of whom would become superstars, some cult favorites. But “Heartworn Highways” isn’t about celebrity; it’s about the work of a musician and the process of making music, seen here in big shows, in anonymous studios, at small honkytonks, and in late-night living room jam sessions. The music, of course, is magnificent, but there’s more than that; you get a sense of what these artists were trying to do, and in retrospect, the extent to which they succeeded at shifting what this music was, and what it could be. (Includes audio commentary, bonus footage, and trailers.)
“Switchblade Sisters”: Jack Hill’s 1975 cult fave – one of Quentin Tarantino’s favorite films, as he’ll loudly tell anyone who’ll listen – is the plutonic ideal of an exploitation movie: fast-paced, high energy, killer set pieces, and great music. The title characters are a tough girl gang known as the “Dagger Debs,” and the plot (such as it is) concerns Maggie (Joanne Nail), a new girl in the neighborhood who ascends quickly in the gang – and pays a price. The script walks a fine line, self-aware without winking too broadly, and Hill snaps it all together like a jigsaw puzzle, creating not only wild action beats but moments of moodiness and even, God help us, pathos. (Includes audio commentary, archival documentaries and interviews, theatrical trailers, and essays by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas and Heather Drain.)
“Irma Vep”: The Criterion Collection loves Olivier Assayas, and took ‘em long enough to add his 1996 international breakthrough. It feels like a long (and not always flattering) look in the mirror, detailing the doomed production of a remake of the silent serial “Les vampires,” as assembled by a director (Jean-Pierre Leaud, perfect) on the downhill slide. Maggie Cheung is marvelous as a fictionalized version of herself, starring in the film-within-the-film and doing her best to roll with the punches in what is, in every sense of the word, a foreign experience. Like Truffaut’s “Day for Night,” its clearest influence, “Irma Vep” is most enlightening as a snapshot of the community of a film set – with all the crushes, gossip, betrayals, and temper tantrums that entails. (Includes new and archival interviews, featurettes, episode of ‘Les vampires,’ rushes, and essay by Aliza Ma.)
“The Furies”: Barbara Stanwyck is forceful and fabulous as the daughter of a New Mexico land baron who struggles to take over the family ranch and keep it afloat in this crisp adaptation of Niven Busch’s novel from director Anthony Mann (getting the Blu-ray bump from Criterion). It is, in theory, a Western – that’s what Mann’s best known for, and the setting (1870s, New Mexico territory) certainly lends itself – but the family drama is so compelling that when the action breaks out around the hour mark, it’s sort of jarring. By then, it’s not even necessary; this is a performance piece, featuring some of Stanwyck’s finest work, plus an inspired old-coot turn by Walter Huston as the patriarch. (Includes audio commentary, archival interviews, featurette, and essay by Robin Wood.)
“History Is Made at Night”: Charles Boyer and Jean Arthur have such explosive chemistry in Frank Borzage’s fabulous romantic drama (also new to Criterion) that they infect the picture with a sense of wild unpredictability; it feels like anything is possible, so palpable is their wild, end-of-the-world romanticism. And that’s key; with lesser actors, we might resist the beautifully convoluted plotting or the mustache-twirling villainy of Colin Clive as Arthur’s estranged husband. But it all works – it’s as though Borzage has to bend the earth to keep these two apart, and he still can’t. (Includes new and archival interviews, featurettes, radio adaptation, and essay by Dan Callahan.)
“Another Thin Man”: Physical media enthusiasts have been wailing and gnashing teeth as of late over rumors that Warner is phasing out physical media in the months to come. If that’s going to happen, I’d just like to make one teeny, tiny request: that they at least get the rest of the “Thin Man” movies out on Blu-ray first. Here’s the third installment, by which time the series’ formula was firmly set and immovable – which is just fine, because “Another Thin Man” is the product of a well-oiled machine, deftly mixing sharp comic writing (this time by the great Anita Loos), W.S. Van Dyke’s smooth direction, a clever mystery, and the unbeatable byplay of William Powell and Myrna Loy. (Includes short and cartoon.)
“Annie Get Your Gun”: Warner Archive’s new edition of the 1950 Freed unit musical features a new 1080p HD master, sourced from 4K scan of original nitrate Technicolor negatives – the kind of information that can leave gearheads salivating and regular viewers scratching their head. So put as simply as possible: it looks amazing. The colors pop and the image is clean as a whistle, underscoring the rousingly staged and crisply shot compositions of director George Sidney. The source material doesn’t always hold up (the Native American material is pretty uncomfortable), but the Irving Berlin songs are a blast, and Betty Hutton and Howard Keel are charismatic as hell, bringing an extra kick to their hot and cold, on-again/off-again romance. (Includes deleted scenes, intro, session tracks, and trailer.)
“Hands Across the Table”: When KL Studio Classics put out their first “Carole Lombard Collection” last summer, it was a snapshot of an ingénue in ascendance; she was still a contract player, not yet a movie star. Well, she is definitely the star in these three films, all released between 1935 and 1936, and the best of the bunch is this romantic comedy from director Mitchell Leisen – the first of four pairings with Fred MacMurray, well-cast as a rich playboy who turns manicurist Lombard’s head and turns out to have a secret or two. Perpetual runner-up Ralph Bellamy co-stars as another client who pines for her, making it something of a who-will-she-choose story, and she’s charming enough to warrant our emotional investment; you just want what’s best for her, darn it. (Features audio commentary.)
“The Princess Comes Across”: Lombard and MacMurray were so good in “Hands” that Paramount reteamed them the very next year, in another opposites-attract story – a cruise ship romance with Lombard as an actress masquerading as royalty (and doing a killer Garbo impression) whose secret might be revealed when she becomes involved with a shipboard murder. The early, comic scenes are such a delight that it’s a shame when the mystery elements take over in the back half, but Lombard and MacMurray still shine, and the invaluable Alison Skipworthsteals scenes by the handful as her minder. (Includes audio commentary.)
“Love Before Breakfast”: Like “Hands,” this screwball comedy from director Walter Lang (“Desk Set”) is a love triangle story, with Lombard torn between Cesar Romero as her sweet but drippy fiancé and Preston Foster as the business tycoon dead set on coming between them. The complicated romantic and financial transactions could’ve sunk a lesser star, but Lombard manages to make her heroine pliable but not a pushover. It’s the weakest of the three films in the collection – and still pretty great, which gives you an idea of how much there is to like here. (Includes audio commentary and trailer.)
