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 new and catalog releases are a real gold mine for genre fans, with several classic horror and giallo titles on 4K and Blu-ray. But we’ve also got two from Billy Wilder, two new additions to the Criterion Collection, a new documentary on Netflix, and much more. Take a look:
ON NETFLIX
“Misha and the Wolves”: Sam Hobkinson’s documentary begins as the straightforward account of how Misha Defonseca turned her story of Holocaust survival into a harrowing and powerful memoir. But the story took considerable turns along the way (investigations, lawsuits, revelations, and reversals), and Hobkinson brings us along for all of them, turning a feel-good, triumph-over-tragedy tale into a detective story. Who was this woman, exactly? And what happened to her? The twisty narrative will satisfy Netflix’s true-crime audience, but there “Misha” doesn’t shy away from the philosophical questions at the heart of the story: what we want to believe, what we choose to believe, and what we can learn (if anything) when we’re wrong.
ON 4K UHD:
“The Bird with the Crystal Plumage”: Dario Argento made his feature directorial debut with this 1970 giallo classic, and it’s one of the most assured inaugural outings in all of cinema. (To be sure, it can’t hurt to have your first film scored by Ennio Morricone and shot by Vittorio Storaro.) Tony Musante stars as an American writer on a working vacation – mostly vacation – in Rome when he witnesses a murder that he cannot stop, and thus feels it is his duty to solve. The violence is shocking, the suspense is unbearable, and the colors are gorgeous; this is not only one of the formative texts of the genre but one of the best, and Arrow Video’s new 4K edition is up to their usual (which is to say, extremely high) standards. (Includes audio commentary, interviews, featurette, trailers, and booklet with essay by Rachael Nisbet.)
“Dead & Buried”: “Welcome to Potter’s Bluff – A New Way of Life,” reads the sign at the entrance of the town, and boy, they’re not kidding. This tasty slab of seaside horror from director Gary Sherman and “Alien” screenwriters Ronald Shusett and Dan O’Bannon finds the sheriff (James Farentino) of a town “no bigger than a postage stamp” investigating a series of grisly murders of out-of-towners. The slow reveal of what exactly is happening (and why) is masterful, with the great Jack Albertson (in his final feature film role) absolutely going for it, using all of his folksy “Willy Wonka” goodwill to startlingly shifted effect. Elegantly constructed, wittily executed, delightfully ruthless, and scary as hell, and Blue Underground’s 4K transfer is jaw-dropping. (Includes audio commentaries, featurettes, new interviews, trailers, soundtrack CD, and essay by Michael Gingold.)
ON BLU-RAY:
“After Life”: Hirokazu Kore-eda’s 1998 drama joins the Criterion Collection (after a long period of inaccessibility in the States), and it remains one of his finest. The story is astonishingly clever, set in a way-station to the afterlife in which the newly deceased spend three days sorting through their memories and selecting the one they value most, which is then recreated for them on film, for them to take with them for eternity. It’s an ingenious idea, the kind of thing you could imagine at the center of a whimsical high-concept comedy, and Kore-eda works through the clever complications and possibilities of this premise, while exploring the day-to-day logistics such an operation would entail. But when the first response of a subject is “I really don’t want to think about all the things I’ve done,” it’s clear that the filmmaker has more on his mind; this is a thoughtful, profound, and moving meditation on life, death, regret, the nature of memory, and movies. You know, all the big subjects. (Includes audio commentary, interviews, deleted scenes, trailer, and essay by Viet Thanh Nguyen.)
“Original Cast Album: Company”: When the great documentarian D.A. Pennebaker made an hour-ish documentary about the recording of the cast album for Stephen Sondheim’s 1970 Broadway musical, it was envisioned as a pilot for a series of shows capturing such sessions. It became something more, capturing both the monotony and the pressure of a marathon recording session, and its heretofore sketchy availability made it something of a totemic object for theatre nerds. Now, on a beautifully restored Criterion edition, we can appreciate it for what it is: a performance film, not unlike Pennebaker’s “Monterey Pop” doc. His cameras capture the difficulty of these songs (and the proximity of the camera captures, more a Broadway viewing would, how these actors sweat them out), most memorably on the gloriously grouchy Elaine Stritch’s take on “The Ladies Who Lunch,” and as she pushes herself, harder and harder, to decreasing effect, the performance becomes its own kind of gripping drama. (Includes audio commentaries, interviews, “Documentary Now” episode “Original Cast Album: Co-Op,” “Co-Op” reunion, and essay by Mark Harris.)
“Lilies of the Field”: Sidney Poitier stars in this modest drama of faith and trust (new on Blu from KL Studio Classics), and his easy charisma remains the picture’s main attraction – he’s warm and earthy and funny as a bit of a vagabond who, in spite of his vehement protestations, is hired/guilted into building a church for a convent of nuns out in the middle of nowhere. It’s calculated, like so many Poitier movies of the era were, to ease racial tensions by positioning him as a Model Black Man, and the manipulation shows (I mean, they’re nuns). But it’s also a good old-fashioned character drama, filled with heartfelt moments and well-developed relationships. (Also streaming on Amazon Prime Video.) (Includes audio commentary and theatrical trailer.)
“Fitzwilly”: Dick Van Dyke never really managed to translate his television stardom to the big screen, but this 1967 comedy – from the great Delbert Mann – makes a more than reasonable case for it. Van Dyke stars as the title character, the resourceful butler for an eccentric widow who engages in various acts of larceny to keep their boss (and thus, themselves) living comfortably. Barbara Feldon is the new addition to the staff who he must keep in the dark about their illegal activities, at least until (inevitably) she falls for the smooth criminal. The dialogue is snappy, Mann’s staging is energetic (particularly the wild climax at Gimbal’s department store), and Van Dyke and Feldon’s chemistry is cozy and charming. (Includes audio commentary and trailer.)
“The Fortune Cookie”: Director Billy Wilder and star Jack Lemmon were already nursing a fruitful collaboration – this was their fourth film together in seven years – when Wilder inspiringly paired his star with Walter Matthau, sensing that the sweet-and-sour contrasts of their persona could result in something electrifying. He was right; this 1966 comedy was the first of their eight team-ups (nine if you count “JFK,” which they were both in, but separately), and they’re hysterical together, with Lemmon as a TV sports cameraman who’s injured on the job, and Matthau as his shyster brother-in-law who tries to soak in the injury for every possible dollar. Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond’s screenplay is razor-sharp, leaning heavily on the cynicism and wry sensibility of their best work, and Lemmon is terrific as the put-upon punching bag. But Matthau is magnificent – he won an Oscar for his work, digging into this unapologetically amoral character with gleeful irreverence. (Also streaming on Amazon Prime Video.) (Includes audio commentary, trailer, and “Trailers from Hell” commentary.)
“The Emperor Waltz”: This earlier Wilder comedy is all but forgotten these days – at least, compared to “Double Indemnity” and “The Lost Weekend” shortly before it, and “Sunset Blvd.” and “Ace in the Hole” shortly thereafter. And it’s no match for those titles, but it is a low-key, enjoyable little charmer, with Bing Crosby as a fast-talking traveling salesman courting the endorsement of the Emperor of Austria, and falling for a countess (Joan Fontaine) in the process. Wilder and Charles Brackett’s screenplay is slang-y and loose, which makes a nice contrast with the turn-of-the-century settings, and Crosby and Fontaine are as engaging as ever. (Includes audio commentary and theatrical trailer.)
“The Sergio Martino Collection”: Sergio Martino may not have the current American name recognition of giallomasters like Argento or Lucio Fulci, but his thrillers were briskly intelligent, crisply made, and blunt in their suspense. The three films collected here by Arrow are previous stand-alone releases, but serve as a fine intro to his work: “The Case of the Scorpion’s Tale” is a jazzily composed and disturbingly arousing murder mystery; the wonderfully titled “Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key” combines witty, wicked dialogue with scorching sensuality; and “The Suspicious Death of a Minor,” though arguably closer to poliziesco than giallo, is memorable for its neat plotting and marvelous car chases. (Includes audio commentaries, interviews, featurettes, trailers, and trailers.)
