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 selection of new disc and streaming movies includes two horror classics on 4K, four noteworthy 2021 releases, and the usual (as in, excellent) selection of catalog titles from Criterion, KL Studio Classics, and Warner Archives. But first, an outstanding new box set for comedy fans:
PICK OF THE WEEK:
“The Ultimate Richard Pryor Collection: Uncensored”: Like their similarly exhaustive set on Robin Williams back in 2018, Time-Life’s new Pryor box set collects the essentials – in this case, Pryor’s four stand-up films, his semi-autobiographical “Jo Jo Dancer, Your Life is Calling,” his short-lived but groundbreaking TV variety show, and two feature documentaries – in one place, which is nice. But again, the draw here is the rarities: several discs of rare TV talk show appearances, episodes of his long-forgotten Saturday morning kiddie show (!), and best of all, a new hour-long featurette on his long-thought-lost, never-quite-completed 1969 film “Uncle Tom’s Fairy Tales,” combining recently recovered footage with a talk with its producer and editor Penelope Spheeris, then just a film student learning the ropes. The price tag is steep, but for fans of Pryor – and of great comedy in general – it’s a must-have. (Also includes outtakes, rare stand-up footage, and interview with Pryor’s widow, Jennifer Lee Pryor.)
ON HULU:
“Gunda”: Viktor Kosakovskiy’s heart-wrenching, gorgeously photographed nature documentary is the first movie in years that prompted, for this viewer at least, a thunderstruck “how did they do that” amazement, because you cannot shrug its effects and achievements off to advances in CGI. There’s a scene early on where several tiny piglets are fighting over their mother’s nipples at feeding time, and the clarity of the images is astonishing; you can see every tiny detail, and as a result, the scene has the immediacy and urgency of great drama. “Gunda” is full of moments like that, during which even the savviest viewer may wonder how they got this close and how they captured these moments without disrupting them.
ON 4K ULTRA-HD BLU-RAY:
“The Silence of the Lambs”: Jonathan Demme’s 1991 grand-slam Oscar winner is a home video perennial – KL Studio Classics’ new 4K edition follows Criterion’s Blu-ray re-release by a mere four years – but I’ll always welcome the opportunity to revisit it. The memorable quotes and moments have become such pop-culture shorthand that we often forget the complexity of what surrounds them. “Silence” boasts not only the serial-killer procedural element but a complicated portrait of women in the workplace, a thoughtful exploration of the challenges of transcending class, and a thrillingly unconventional deployment of the subjective camera. Plus, y’know, “fava beans” and “an old friend for dinner” and all that. It remains a high watermark for all involved, and KL’s 4K disc richly replicates the original theatrical presentation’s blown-out lights and terrifying darkness. (Includes audio commentary, featurettes, archival interviews, deleted scenes, outtakes, TV spots, teaser, and trailer.)
“Deep Red”: Dario Argento’s 1975 giallo – out in a knockout new 4K from Arrow Video – stars David Hemmings as one of the Italian filmmaker’s favorite character types: the obsessed amateur detective. He stars as a music conservatory educator who witnesses a brutal murder, and in trying to understand what he saw, he’s drawn into a world of supernatural forces, clairvoyants, and killers. Argento loads the picture with eccentric supporting characters, bold, weird compositions, and genuinely grisly (and frankly inspired) kills; the result is one of the best films of his most fruitful period. (Includes both original and export versions, audio commentaries, new and archival interviews, featurette, trailers, booklet, lobby cards, and fold-out poster.)
ON BLU-RAY / DVD / VOD:
“Stillwater”: Matt Damon is shockingly convincing as an Oklahoma roughneck – I’ve met guys like this, and every choice he makes, from the grunting speech to the guarded manner to the particular wardrobe, rings true – in Tom McCarthy’s dramatic thriller. He plays the father of a college student (Abigail Breslin) imprisoned in Marseille for the murder of her roommate and lover. Though we expect a borderline-“Taken” story of the brave father’s quest for justice, Damon’s complicated characterization and McCarthy’s framing of the narrative cleverly subverts the conventions and expectations of a movie like this. It’s a compelling picture, knotty and nuanced, and this is some of Damon’s best work to date. (Includes featurettes.)
“Old”: The criticisms that crept up around M. Night Shyamalan’s latest are not without merit – yes, the dialogue is pretty stilted (especially early on), and the more I think about the eventual explanation, the less responsible it feels. But the premise (a private beach near a fancy resort causes its visitors to age very rapidly) is clever, the reveal is well-executed, and Shyamalan’s script works out all kinds of ingenious and sometimes brutal, variations. (That surgery scene, my goodness). It moves at a breathless clip and dips into oddly, unexpectedly touching territory in the home stretch; the net result is middle-of-the-road M. Night, and that’s probably good enough. (Includes deleted scenes and featurettes.)
“Summertime”: “Blindspotting” director Carlos Lopez Estrada crafts a “Short Cuts”-style valentine to Los Angeles, but with poems instead of Carver stories, visualizing the texts of 25 L.A. poets (and also songs, and dances, and blackout sketches). He uses a “Slacker” structure, following one person to the next over one long day, occasionally reconnecting to recurring characters. But what he’s essentially making here is a musical, albeit one where the music is words, and spouting poetry is bursting into song, and as movie musicals, the cynical will resist. And they’re not entirely wrong – some pieces work better than others, to be sure, and it’s awfully pleased with itself in general. But Estrada pulls it all together at the end, when it counts, interlocking these characters and stories and words into something indelible. (Includes audio commentary, Q&A, featurettes, and trailers.)
ON DVD / VOD:
“Roadrunner: A Film About Anthony Bourdain”: A tricky and qualified recommendation at best; this viewer saw and reviewed Morgan Neville’s bio-doc profile of the celebrity chef and television personality before the disclosures of its troubling breaches of documentary ethics and conventions. Even then, it gave some pause; Neville’s attempts to “explain” Bourdain’s suicide is about as successful as those things usually are (which is to say, not at all), and the sunny filmmaker seems ill at ease with the darker portions of his subject’s life (and mind). But in its first hour or so, Neville and his editors successfully tell the story at his tempo, with relentless forward momentum and jagged cutting patterns to incorporate flashes of his influences, all to help us see his life the way he did. It’s fast, fun, and eye-opening for long stretches, and it’s worth seeing for those passages alone.
ON BLU-RAY:
“Ratcatcher”: The great Scottish filmmaker Lynne Ramsay made her feature debut with this wrenching working-class drama (finally available on Blu-ray from The Criterion Collection), which captures, in scene after scene, the helpless sense of being trapped in your dire circumstances. A grim portrait of a run-down apartment block amid a garbage strike, it’s filled with tension and uncertainty – though it’s not entirely a drag, as there are moments of joy and release throughout (but boy are they fleeing). In another filmmaker’s hands, it could’ve been a traditional, kitchen sink social drama. But Ramsay composes these scenes in such a specific, haunting way that it becomes something more transcendent… and more tragic. (Includes new and archival interviews, three Ramsay short films, trailer, and essays by Girish Shambu and Barry Jenkins.)
“The Incredible Shrinking Man”: Jack Arnold’s classic B-movie (new to Criterion) opens with a mushroom cloud, which gives you some idea of the subtlety of what will follow. Grant Williams stars as an average Joe whose accidental exposure to nuclear radiation stars a long, slow, painful process of shrinking down to the size of a thumbtack. Even after all these years, with so many technological advances, the process is eerily convincing (thanks to uncanny use of forced perspective, oversized props, and early optical effects). It’s an exciting picture, mainly when it turns into an all but dialogue-free survival story in the back half-hour, but what makes it work is what comes before – the real human drama of what this does to his marriage and self-image. (Includes audio commentary, featurettes, new and archival interviews, 8mm home-cinema versions, trailer, and an essay by Geoffrey O’Brien.)
“Devi”: Satyajit Ray’s 1960 drama, also new to the Criterion Collection, begins as a relatively modest family drama, with a married couple in conflict as the husband goes away for work and leaves his wife to care for his father. But one night, the old man has a vision that leaves him stunned and becomes convinced that his daughter-in-law is “the Goddess incarnate,” worshipping her and presenting her to all as a healer and leader. Their patriarchal society forbids her from objecting, which provides much of the gripping interpersonal conflict (“She has no power to challenge the person responsible,” her husband despairs). But beyond that, “Devi” is a quietly devastating contemplation of faith and responsibility, and its footprints are all over the likes of Scorsese’s “The Last Temptation of Christ” and “Silence.” (Includes archival interviews, featurette, and an essay by Devika Girish.)
“Dinner at Eight”: On Blu-ray at last via Warner Archive, George Cukor’s 1933 adaptation of George S. Kaufman and Edna Ferber’s Broadway smash remains a delight – sharp, witty, and beautifully cast (the ace ensemble includes Marie Dressler, John Barrymore, Lionel Barrymore, and Billy Burke). In detailing the run-up to a high society dinner party, Cukor patiently sets up an explosive combination of personalities, then gently pushes them into each other. They’re working on a few different wavelengths here, including comedy of manners, show biz exposé, Wall Street movie, even tragedy. But the best scenes involve the culture clash between the fancy types and the new money Dan Packard (Wallace Beery) and his good-time girl wife Kitty (Jean Harlow) – and the twist, of course, is that Beery and Harlow absolutely steal the picture. It’s nearly 90 years old, but “Dinner at Eight” remains a graceful, quotable dazzler. (Includes featurette, comedy short, and trailer.)
“Mad Love”: This Peter Lorre vehicle from “The Mummy” director Karl Freund followed “M” by four years, but it finds the character actor working in a similarly chilling vein. He’s Dr. Gogol, a famed surgeon obsessed with a stage actress who is asked to save the hands of her pianist husband after a horrible accident, and sneakily transplants those of an executed killer. You can see the DNA of many a later horror flick, from “The Hand” to “Body Parts,” in not just the conception but the cuckoo-bananas conclusion. Lorre is terrific (of course), as is Frances Drake as the object of his obsession. But what’s most striking is its moody look; Freund was the cinematographer of “Dracula” and “Metropolis,” while one of his photographers here was the legendary Gregg Toland, and their collaboration results in a heady brew of creepy shadows and bumpy nights. (Includes audio commentary and trailer.)
“Eye of the Devil”: In this post-“Once Upon a Time in Hollywood” world, the main point of interest for J. Lee Thompson’s 1966 Gothic thriller is the presence of Sharon Tate, making her film debut in a critical supporting role. And she’s mesmerizing – beautiful, of course, but also chilling as one of the sinister forces freaking out Deborah Kerr at husband David Niven’s family estate. (It would make a good double-bill with Kerr’s “The Innocents.”) Like much of Thompson’s work, “Eye of the Devil” is vaguely kinky, but it’s also nightmarish, illogical, and unsettling and disorienting (all those zooms!). And its discombobulating paranoia becomes discomfortingly timely, as our heroine is assured, “Don’t try to make a fuss because no one will believe you. No one will come forward to support what you have said. No one ever has.” (Includes theatrical trailer.)
“Night Shift”: Ron Howard made his theatrical directorial debut with what seemed like a calculated attempt to pivot as far as possible from his squeaky-clean TV image: with a raunchy comedy about two morgue attendants who turn their place of business into a brothel. Lowell Ganz and Babaloo Mandel’s script probably tells the safest possible version of that story. Still, Howard nevertheless captures the seediness of the early-‘80s NYC setting. He lucked out with his cast: Henry Winkler is gloriously schlubby as the reluctant partner, and Michael Keaton (in his film debut) is electrifying as the fast-talking ringleader of the operation. (Includes trailer.)
“Say Amen, Somebody”: George Nierenberg’s widely acclaimed (and, for a good long while, barely available) musical documentary focuses on Thomas Dorsey and Willie Mae Ford Smith, two lifelong gospel performers who spend their golden years barnstorming to small churches and congregations they perform, spread the gospel, revisit their old stomping grounds, and tell their war stories. They’re both so aged and fragile that you get a sense that Nierenberg wanted to record these stories before it was too late, and thank goodness for that. And then there is the music, of course, the music, which is so joyful and heartfelt and moving that even atheists will find themselves swept up. (Includes audio commentary, outtakes, new interview, and introduction.)
“The Pursuit of D.B. Cooper”: The tale of D.B. Cooper’s 1971 hijacking – and his clean getaway – has fascinated observers for 45 years now, and though a recent HBO documentary reignited interest in this story, this comedy-drama got there a mere decade later. Director Roger Spottiswoode doesn’t attempt to dramatize Cooper’s crime. He opens his story with Cooper parachuting out of the plane, explains (via on-screen text) that “what happened after that is anyone’s guess,” and embarks on a cheerfully fictionalized account of how Bill Gruen (Robert Duvall), an insurance agent and former Army sergeant, chased one of his former soldiers (Treat Williams) across the country, particular that he was Cooper. This film was a notoriously troubled production, going through three different directors and multiple screenwriters, and the film’s identity crisis is evident; it can’t decide if it wants to be a post-Vietnam drama, a crime picture, or a “Smokey and the Bandit”-style yee-haw chase comedy. But Williams is rakishly charming, Kathryn Harrold is charismatic as ever as his on-again, off-again partner, and Duvall is right in his element as a folksy, righteous man on a mission. (Includes audio commentary, TV spots, and a theatrical trailer.)