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, catalogue titles making a splash on Blu-ray or 4K. This twice-monthly column sifts through all of those choices to pluck out the movies most worth your time, no matter how you’re watching.
Friends, it’s been three weeks since our last installment, and it’s been a busy time for discs and streaming, so here are 27 reviews:
PICK OF THE WEEK:
“The Godfather Trilogy”: No one needs to be told, on this 50th anniversary of its release, why “The Godfather” movies are great. It’s just accepted as fact, two unimpeachable masterpieces that were both giant commercial successes, thoughtful meditations on the American way of life, and breathtakingly beautiful works of art, along with an epilogue that has, in the passing years, accumulated respectability of its own – thanks, in no small part, to a recent and effective reediting by director Francis Ford Coppola. Paramount’s gorgeous new 4K set takes full advantage of the format’s capacity for deep, inky darkness to capture Gordon Willis’ remarkable use of light and shadows, while the audio mixes are crisp and immersive. And the bonus features thankfully include the previous edits of the third chapter, a bit of historical preservation and respect that perhaps Mr. Coppola could share with one of his ‘70s film brat contemporaries. (Includes introductions, deleted scenes, screen tests, documentaries, and featurettes.)
ON HULU:
“Deep Water”: This is Adrian Lyne’s first film in 20 years (!) and he hasn’t missed a beat, crafting less of an “erotic thriller” than a lived-in portrait of marital misery. Ben Affleck is in top form as a listless millionaire whose gorgeous wife (Ana de Armas) is a sexual butterfly, which he finds himself increasingly incapable of handling without losing his cool. The sex is minimal and the suspense is hit-and-miss; “Deep Water” works best as a dark comedy, with Affleck crushing every line reading and de Armas playing the vamp with style and panache. And Tracy Letts’ reaction shots are like an art unto themselves.
ON AMAZON PRIME:
“Master”: Hoity-toity campuses and their racial microaggressions have been a juicy topic for filmmakers of color for years, and writer/director Mariama Diallo’s debut feature uses those thorny dynamics at the service of a film that blends social commentary and horror elements, though not always smoothly. But she has a knack for mood, a flair for unnerving compositions, and a sure hand with actors; Regina Hall is especially good as the new dean of students, while Zoe Renee is a warm and sympathetic presence as a Black freshman who becomes consumed by the fate of the school’s first Black undergrad, whose dorm room she currently inhabits, and whose ghoulish fate seems to predict her own.
ON BLU-RAY / DVD / VOD:
“West Side Story”: If you can look past the leaden lead performance of Ansel Elgort— which is a big ask — Steven Spielberg’s Best Picture nominee is a stunner, an engaging and entertaining picture that not only recreates a classic of the musical stage and screen but rethinks it. The whole thing moves like a freight train, its 156 minutes passing in barely a breath, and that breakneck pace, combined with the expressionist aesthetic and candy-colored imagery, reminds us that blockbusters don’t have to be these lumbering processions of grey-scaled dreck. It’s a rarity, a big-budget studio picture with style and pizzazz. (Also streaming on Disney+.) (Includes featurettes.)
“Nightmare Alley”: The commercial failure of Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation of William Lindsay Gresham’s novel (and remake of Edmund Goulding’s ace 1947 film version) was disappointing but not surprising; studios don’t even know how to make movies like this anymore, much less market them, and that’s without figuring in Disney’s red-headed stepchild treatment of in-progress projects inherited as part of their Fox acquisition. But its strong showing in the Oscar nominations and splashy (if quick) appearance on Hulu means, like del Toro’s earlier “Crimson Peak,” that it may find its audience yet – one that can appreciate its leisurely pacing, eye for eccentricity, and doom-laden worldview for the rarities they are. (Also streaming on Hulu.) (Includes featurettes.)
“Red Rocket”: Sean Baker writes and directs this a portrait of a first-class fuck-up: Mikey (Simon Rex, terrific), an adult film star who oozes oily charm and lies as easily as he breathes. We’re so used to filmmakers encouraging us to root for their underdog heroes that the true insidiousness of who this guy is, and what he’s up to, sneaks up; the character’s charismatic affability gives way to an abhorrent morality and casual cruelty so slowly and subtly that, in its own, brilliant way, “Red Rocket” becomes a sly indictment of how we watch movies, and who we root for in them. (Includes audio commentaries and featurette.)
“Marry Me”: This Jennifer Lopez/Owen Wilson romantic comedy isn’t good, strictly speaking – it’s too long, too syrupy, and not funny enough. But it’s totally worth seeing, as it offers a fascinating glimpse at how its leading lady, one of the most enigmatic and elusive film stars of our time, sees herself. Because she’s basically playing Jennifer Lopez here; the name is changed, but she’s playing a super-famous pop star who calls off her engagement to another super-famous pop star (Maluma) at the last second for a stunt-wedding to a Normal (Wilson). And he brings out her Real Self – or, at least, what Lopez would like the world to believe that is, though it’s hard to imagine maintaining a hold on reality after twenty-plus years in the hermetically sealed bubble of worldwide fame. At any rate, their chemistry is workable, both are likable, and Sarah Silverman steals all of her scenes without breaking a sweat. (Includes audio commentary, deleted scenes, gag reel, music video, and featurettes.)
“Project Space 13”: Indie mainstay Keith Poulson stars as a mildly pretentious New York visual artist whose gimmicky downtown performance piece unfortunately opens just as the city is entering the 2020 COVID-19 shutdown. Locked into the gallery and carrying on for his own amusement, he’s joined by a pair of private security guards for protection from protestors. It’s a little stagey and a little overwritten, and feels strangely padded (even at a slim 67 minutes). But writer/director Michael M. Bilandic – with a big assist from cinematographer Sean Price Williams – crafts some genuinely well-executed comic moments alongside the tension and claustrophobia of the confined space, while also capturing the odd feeling of that first, chaotic summer. (Includes audio commentary, Q&As, and trailer.)
ON DVD / VOD:
“Brighton 4th“: Kakhi (Levan Tediashvili) is a fixer – when we first meet him, he’s helping his ne’er-do-well brother out of a jam, and no sooner has he traveled from his Georgian home to see his son than he realizes the young man is thousands of dollars in debt, so he tries to set things right. Director Levan Koguashvili crafts this comedy/drama as a portrait of man – Tediashvili, a real-life Olympic wrestler, has a fascinating screen presence – and of a subculture, digging into the Georgian immigrant areas of Brighton Beach and hanging out there a while. It’s quiet, understated, and occasionally quite funny, particularly in the third-act sidebars that include a (righteous!) kidnapping and a senior citizen wrestling match on the beach. (Includes deleted scene, short film, interview, and trailer.)
ON 4K:
“Touch of Evil”: Orson Welles’ 1958 film noir classic was, like so much of his work, mangled by studio muckety-mucks – mercilessly clipped down by Universal for its original theatrical release, championed by a new generation of cinephiles in the mid-1970s when an earlier, “preview” version was discovered, and then finally reconstructed into something akin to a director’s cut by legendary editor Walter Murch in 1998 from a 58-page memo from Welles to Universal. KL Studio Classics’ new edition includes 4K restorations of all three versions (hallelujah), and it remains a marvel, filled with flourishes that feel closer to current cinema than its original era, heavy with overlapping dialogue, hothouse atmosphere, and sweaty intensity. It’s one Welles’ best films – and best performances, with his border-town lawman a definitive portrait of sleazy, small-time corruption. (Includes audio commentaries and featurettes.)
“The Apartment”: Billy Wilder’s 1960 smash (winner of Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Screenplay) was a ground-breaker on multiple fronts: it dealt with sex in a frank manner, indicative of the decade to come; it painted a portrait of the barely-concealed sleaze of office culture that would resonate for decades, and influenced such seminal works as “Mad Men”; it cemented the stardom (and frequent character types) of stars Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine. But most of all, it defined the contemporary romantic comedy, in a way that few other films did: the patterns of attraction, miscommunication, misinterpretation, and reconciliation that are still part of the genre are set in stone here. But don’t watch for any of that. Watch it because it’s charming, and cynical, and funny as hell. (Includes audio commentaries, featurettes, and trailer.)
“Eastern Promises”: This 2007 effort (another new one from KL) isn’t much discussed among the great works of director David Cronenberg, presumably because it’s so atypical – it’s absent his signature body horror (aside from a few meticulously grisly throat-cuttings), or the pulpiness of its immediate predecessor, and the director’s initial collaboration with star Viggo Mortensen, “A History of Violence.” Ads played up the Russian mob storyline, but it’s not a gangster movie either; this is a mournful, contemplative character study, a chamber piece about the grisly mediocrity of evil, and a man who isn’t sure how to confront it. Mortensen as mob muscle and Vincent Cassel as the scuzzy scion he protects are a study in contrasts (in dress, in hair, in style, in swagger), which underscores their wildly divergent morality, and Naomi Watts is at her understated best, while Armin Mueller-Stahl is as chilling as he’s ever been. And the nude fight scene remains one of the greatest set pieces of Croneberg’s career. (Includes featurettes and trailers.)
“The Last Waltz”: The Criterion Collection’s latest 4K release is another must-have: Martin Scorsese’s documentary of the Band’s Thanksgiving 1978 “farewell concert,” an all-star extravaganza featuring such guests as Bob Dylan, Eric Clapton, Neil Young, Van Morrison, Neil Diamond, Muddy Waters, Ringo Starr, and Paul Butterfield. To supplement the copious performances, Scorsese conducted the interviews that are intercut with the songs (and became lifelong friends with Robbie Robertson in the process). Those interviews have a laid-back candor that’s still somewhat shocking, but the performances—captured with epic grandeur by Scorsese and an all-star team of cinematographers, including Vilmos Zsigmond, Michael Chapman, and Laszlo Kovacs —are what make “The Last Waltz” such a powerful celebration of this band and their sound. It’s never looked, or sounded, better on home video. (Includes audio commentaries, new and archival interviews, featurette, outtake, trailer, TV spot, and essay by Amanda Petrusich.)
“Le Cercle Rouge”: Jean-Pierre Melville’s penultimate feature is a heist movie, yes, but late enough in the cycle of French crime pictures (and Melville’s career) that it functions less as an example and more of a meta-textual commentary; like Michael Mann’s “Heat,” upon which it is an obvious influence, it finds a filmmaker stretching his legs in a genre he’s spent considerable time in, using its expansive scope and running time to peek into corners usually unexplored. Which is not to shortchange the heist elements – the “Rififi”-esque job itself, similarly performed at great length and dead quiet, is utterly thrilling. But it’s just as exciting to watch Melville and his cast (including Alain Delon and Yves Montand) explore the iconography at play. (Includes new and archival interviews, behind-the-scenes footage, trailer, and essays by Michael Sragow and Chris Fujiwara.)
“An American Werewolf in London”: Arrow Video upgrades their definitive 2019 Blu-ray edition of John Landis’s 1981 werewolf classic with a brand-new 4K restoration from the original camera negative, and it just sings– and is as loaded as ever with jolts and laughs. The latter are really what make this one special; it’s hard not to see the influence of “Abbott & Costello Meet Frankenstein” in the dynamic between leads David Naughton and Griffin Dunne, while Naughton’s charming romance with Jenny Agutter gives the story (and the dilemma at its center) unexpected human dimension. But above all, Rick Baker’s make-up effects remain jaw-dropping: the flesh hanging from Dunne’s face churns the stomach, while Naughton’s dizzyingly convincing transformations are still the gold standard. (Includes audio commentaries, documentaries, video essay, new and archival interviews, featurettes, outtakes, storyboards, trailers, TV and radio spots, and essays by Craig Ian Mann and Simon Ward.)
“Schizoid / X-Ray”: Before they became the undisputed home of ‘80s action trash, Cannon Films and their heads Menahem Golan and Yoram Globus looked for a buck where most exploitation filmmakers did in the early years of the decade: by making slasher movies. This three-disc set from Vinegar Syndrome collects two of them; “Schizoid” follows a brutal, menacing killer with an especially durable pair of scissors as he attempts to pick off the five women in a therapy group run by Klaus Kinski, who seems to be the world’s worst therapist. As with many early slashers, it’s as much whodunit as horror, and to its credit, the final twist is a good one. The pre-“Halloween II” hospital horror “X-Ray,” from Golan-Globus house director Boaz Davidson, is easier to guess at but more enjoyable throughout, with Davidson staging a handful of solid suspense beats while finding an effective note of institutional (and then personal) paranoia. (Includes new and archival interviews and featurette.)
ON BLU-RAY:
“Love Jones”: This 1997 romantic drama, the first and (so far) only film from writer/director Theodore Witcher, calls upon plenty of romance tropes: love at first sight, split-second misunderstandings, forced separations, last-minute appeals. But they somehow feel fresh and genuine, thanks to the relaxed vibe of Witcher’s script, the charisma of his performers (particularly leads Nia Long and Larenz Tate), and the authenticity of the Black bohemian scene he captures in mid-‘90s Chicago – a world of poets, writers, and photographers, which was quite the contrast in terms of Black representation in the films of that era (or ours). It’s a loose, hangout movie, but one with much to say about love, longing, and forgiveness; this Criterion release will hopefully grant it some long-overdue accolades. (Includes audio commentary, new interviews, panel discussion, featurette, and essay by Danielle Amir Jackson.)
“The Flight of the Phoenix”: The great Robert Aldrich helms this character-driven adventure – well, as much of an adventure as a movie that stays in one place can be – with James Stewart leading an all-star ensemble as the pilot of a military aircraft that runs into a sandstorm en route to Benghazi and crashes into the desert. Aldrich’s next film, “The Dirty Dozen,” is one of the quintessential men-on-a-mission movies; this is more of a men-in-a-pressure-cooker movie, as the various nationalities and personalities of the stranded men come to a head. Stewart is very good, gruff and bitter (it’s the kind of role Humphrey Bogart could’ve played in his sleep, but Stewart brings a guilty sensitivity to the character that works). And Aldrich’s direction is tip-top – watch the way he builds the tension of the engine firing up, and you’re seeing a master at work. (Includes new interviews, trailer, and essay by Gina Telaroli.)
“Adoption”: Hungary, 1975. Kata (Katalin Berek), a 43-year-old factory worker, decides she wants children and decides, for a variety of reasons, that it’s too late – so she rents her spare room to a 17-year-old student (Gyöngyvér Vigh) and tells anyone who will listen that her new roommate “could be my daughter.” They form something of a bond, and change each other’s lives – but not always for the better, which is one of the unexpected pleasures of director and co-writer Márta Mészáros’ film (also new to Criterion). She has a sure eye for social discomfort and a good ear for uncomfortable interactions, and she makes what could have been a lazy lay-up into a genuinely challenging personal drama. (Includes short film, documentary, archival interview, trailer, and essay by Elena Gorfinkel.)
“Ordinary People”: Robert Redford transitioned from movie star to Oscar-winning filmmaker with this 1980 adaptation of Judith Guest’s novel. It’s become something of a villain for a certain kind of cinephile, for the unforgivable sin of “taking” the Oscars of “Raging Bull” and its director Martin Scorsese, but that’s not the fault of the film – a finely-tuned (if unflashy) examination of family dynamics and male sensitivity in the wake of tragedy. Timothy Hutton also won a statue for his searing work as the young son trying to find his own way; Judd Hirsch and Donald Sutherland are outstanding as the therapist and father (respectively) helping him on his journey. But the standout performance is Mary Tyler Moore, playing marvelously against type as the cold, bitter mother who just wants everyone to act like everything’s normal. (Includes interviews.)
“The Wonderful World of the Brothers Grimm”: This 1962 fantasy from directors Henry Levin and George Pal was one of only two narrative features shot and exhibited in true Cinerama, the triptych process that projected an oversized image on a triple-sized screen. The other was “How the West Was Won,” and as with Warner’s Blu-ray release of that film a few years back, “Brothers Grimm” is presented in both conventional widescreen and in a curved, “smilebox” style that replicates that original release. The strange formal requirements of Cinerama sometimes make for awkward compositions and staging, but overall, the spectacle is worth a look – less during the bio-pic segments (featuring Laurence Harvey and Karl Boehm as the title characters) than in the dramatizations of their stories, brought to life with vivid stop-motion work by Pal. (Includes archival interviews, featurettes, trailers, and slideshow.)
“Scream, Queen: My Nightmare on Elm Street”: Marc Patton played the leading role in the second “Nightmare on Elm Street” movie, but its reception – much of it rooted in ‘80s homophobia, a backlash to the film’s obvious queer subtext and Patton’s own homosexuality – drove him to quit acting and disappear for decades. This entertaining and intimate documentary takes a fascinating look at that unfortunate moment in popular culture, when the AIDS scare led to widespread fear and knee-jerk panic throughout Hollywood, as well as Patton’s return to the limelight over the past decade, where he’s met young horror fans who connected to his character and his struggle. Along the way, directors Roman Chimienti and Tyler Jensen dive into the always fascinating waters of queer close-reads in mainstream cinema (see also: the last film in this column), and how films like “Nightmare 2” become unlikely cultural touchstones. (Includes audio commentary, featurettes, music video, panel discussions, alternate opening, and essay by B.J. Colangelo.)
“Hellaware”: The “Project Space 13” team of writer/director Michael M. Bilandic, cinematographer Sean Price Williams, and star Keith Poulson previously collaborated on this dry satire of the intersecting nonsensical worlds of art, culture, academia, and white teen rap. Poulson stars as a dissatisfied photographer who sees a group of reckless Delaware hip-hop kids as his possible ticket to infamy, and gets exactly what he asks for, but his arc (and the inevitable but enjoyable conclusion) is not what’s noteworthy – it’s Bilandic’s well-observed dialogue and sure hand at darkly funny situations. Poulson is in top form (he’s quite good, in both films, at playing guys who believe their own bullshit), but the scene-stealer is future filmmaker Sophia Takal, who lands some of the film’s funniest moments. (Includes audio commentary, featurette, deleted and extended scenes, trailer, music video, and essays by Nick Pinkerton and Michael Chaiken.)
“Pathogen”: Writer/director Emily Hagins was all of 15 years old when this zombies-take-over-Austin epic was released in 2006, and it has the handheld, homemade horror aesthetic you’d expect from such a tender-aged auteur. But it has undeniable enthusiasm and energy, and if the staging is stilted, you’ll barely notice once the vomit starts spewing. It’s a hoot, fully playing like the after-school project it certainly was, with some great gags and a suitably bleak conclusion. (Includes audio commentary, Q&A, short film, and bonus making-of documentary.)
“Zoot Suit”: Writer/director Luis Valdez adapted his 1979 Broadway musical – based on the Zoot Suit riots and Sleepy Lagoon murders of early 1940s Los Angeles – into this 1981 film version, which combines both mediums, presenting its events as a staged production for an occasionally-glimpsed audience. It’s a strange fusion, creating a distancing effect in dialogue scenes, but it really works in the musical numbers, which have the burning electricity of a live performance. (It feels like an embryonic version of the “dream space” gimmick that “Chicago” would deploy, with greater success, two-plus decades later.) The performers do much of the work to keep it afloat, particularly a marvelously earnest Tyne Daly and narrator/tour guide Edward James Olmos, who has charisma to burn. (Includes audio commentary, interview, and trailer.)
“Man’s Favorite Sport?”: This late Howard Hawks project isn’t considered one of his best, and it’s easy to see why – the pace is slack (it’s a too-leisurely 120 minutes), the story is thin, and he seems a bad fit with star Rock Hudson. But this story of a famed outdoorsman who has, in fact, no idea how to fish or camp or much of anything else has its pleasures, most of them courtesy of leading lady Paula Prentiss; she’s quite the sparkplug, and her sly energy makes a fun match with that of the perpetually put-upon Hudson. (Includes audio commentary and trailer.)
ON DVD:
“Rock Hudson’s Home Movies”: Maybe it’s just a coincidence that Kino Classics is releasing this disc in such close proximity to their sister division’s new “Man’s Favorite Sport?” disc, but probably not, as it’s one of the many Hudson movies excerpted for this thoughtful essay film. Via well-curated clips and Eric Farr’s performance as the matinee idol, director Mark Rappaport explores the homosexual subtext of Hudson’s filmography – moments that, taken aside and put into conversation with each other, indicate a constant stream of little winks and double-meanings that allowed the actor to communicate to a select few viewers in the know. Particular attention is paid to his collaborations with Doris Day and Tony Randall, but the entire film is steeped in his iconography and image, and Rappaport’s juxtapositions are sometimes clever, sometimes hilarious, and sometimes heartbreaking. (Includes four bonus Rappaport films: “Blue Streak,” “John Carfield,” “Sergi/Sir Gay,” and “Conrad Veidt – My Life.”)
