Blu-rays of the Week
American Horror Story—Asylum
(Fox)
This series’ second season retains
some of the same actors in a burgeoning repertory company; its first season—whose
title was Murder House—has given way
to an overdone “nuthouse” setting. There’s creepiness galore, but excessive
blood, gore, sex and ickiness mitigate whatever compelling storytelling lurks about.
If Jessica Lange and James Cromwell overdo the monstrousness, it’s nice to see
actors I’ve rarely liked, such as Zachary Quinto, Lily Rabe and Sarah Paulson,
do well with subpar material. There’s a first-rate Blu-ray transfer; extras are
featurettes, interviews and deleted scenes.
(Universal)
Here’s another sequel as another
franchise gets rebooted—but how many more Chuckys
do we need? In a world of schlocky horror movies, there’s no reason not to
do it, since kids today will thrill to seeing the murderous doll return to
terrorize so many stupid people. This moves passably along its creaky way, violently
enough to make it worthwhile for its target audience. The hi-def transfer is
excellent; extras include a commentary, featurettes, deleted scenes and a gag
reel.
Dead Before Dawn
(Vivendi)
The undead plagues high school
teens in this scattershot horror comedy: the zombie well, which has run dry, squeezes
out a few last drops of goriness. There’s a welcome, if dopey, sense of humor,
but there’s only so much director April Mullen and writer Tim Doiron can do
with such shopworn material, especially if they’re not imaginative enough to
breathe life into a moribund genre. The Blu-ray transfer looks good; extras are
featurettes and a blooper reel.
(Magnet)
For once, “found footage” makes
sense in context: astronauts sent to Jupiter’s moon haven’t contacted mission
control, and their camera footage (relayed back to earth) shows what happened
once they land. It sounds better than it plays since—even with built-in tension
and a solid Embeth Davidtz as head of mission control—director Sebastian
Cordero can’t properly handle its rhythms, evidently assuming all will automatically
lock into place. It doesn’t, and the final “reveal” is a dud. The Blu-ray looks
luminous; extras comprise deleted scenes and a visual effects featurette.
Jack Irish—Set 1
(Acorn)
In this well-observed Australian
procedural, Guy Pearce vividly portrays a former cop whose personal life—he’s a
widow and alcoholic—won’t let him move on, even though he’s now a thorny
private eye. Based on Peter Temple’s books, the two full-length films, Bad Debts and Black Tide, are more gritty and tart than sentimental. A top
supporting cast supplements Pearce’s star turn. The hi-def transfer is quite
good; lone extra is a behind the scenes featurette.
(Warner Archive)
Warner Archive is now releasing
TV series on Blu-ray: since they’re shown on TV in HD, it makes sense. The
first season of this popular hit show is a good place to start. Simon Baker is Patrick
Jane, a charmer who uses his extrasensory powers of perception to track
criminals, including the man who killed his wife and daughter. It’s often
derivative, but done so elegantly, what’s to complain about? It looks terrific
on hi-def; extras are featurettes, deleted scenes and gag reel. (available
through WarnerArchive.com)
North America
(Discovery)
Tom Selleck narrates this stunning,
seven-episode look at Mother Nature’s glories, many of them just out of sight
of modern civilization, from the heights of the mountains to the depths of the desert,
from sea to shining sea. Stupendous camerawork catches such amazing sequences
as buffaloes somehow escaping ravenous wolves and bears lining up for salmon
feedings as bald eagles arrive to steal a carcass or three. Selleck’s narration
is often risible, but viewers should concentrate on the visuals—which look
incredible on Blu-ray—and don’t listen. A filmmakers’ commentary is the lone
extra.
The Adventurers and
The Evening Star
(Warner Archive)
A lumbering three-hour elephant,
1970’s The Adventurers stars Candice
Bergen, Rossano Brazzi and Charles Aznavour (all stolid) in a caterpillar-paced
adaptation of Harold Robbins’ bestselling novel about jet-setters. The Evening Star is a likeably minor 1996
sequel to Terms of Endearment. Although
Shirley MacLaine reprises her role of feisty Aurora Greenway, a lackluster
Juliette Lewis takes the dynamite Debra Winger’s place, while Jack Nicholson has
a mere cameo. (available through WarnerArchive.com)
Brainwave
(Athena)
In conversations held at Manhattan’s
Rubin Museum of Art beginning in 2008, several celebrities were paired with neuroscientists
and other experts to discuss topics related to our brain and intelligence:
originally streamed online, this three-disc set compiles 10 of these fascinating
talks. For starters, there’s infamously raging comic Lewis Black on anger and actress
Debra Winger on dreams; other talking heads are singers Henry Rollins and
Laurie Anderson and author Amy Tan.
(StarVista)
It took awhile—I guess due to
music-rights red tape for its classic soundtrack tunes—but this seminal
Vietnam-era series finally arrives on DVD: its first season (from 1988) introduces
Colleen McMurphy and cohorts, saving and sewing up wounded soldiers. Dana
Delany and Marg Helgenberger made their names here, and this character-driven drama
remains a superior example of its type. All seven first-season episodes are
included, along with classic ‘60s songs like the Stones’ “Sympathy for the
Devil” and the Supremes’ “Reflections”; extras include a new Delany/Webb
interview, episode commentaries, 25th anniversary cast reunion and
retrospective featurette.
Morning
(Anchor Bay)
This film about a grieving couple
unable to cope with a beloved young son’s death is so relentlessly grim that,
despite a superlative performance by Jeanne Tripplehorn as the downtrodden
wife—hubby is played less affectingly by her real-life husband, writer-director
Leland Orser—we never care about their plight because too many contrivances are
piled on. So much reminds the mom of her dead boy, like a chatty acquaintance
with a young son and a chatty friend whose teenage son is a blatant reminder of
what she’ll never get to experience, that the lone bit of subtlety is that the
title is not Mourning.
(Cinema Guild)
What could have been a charming
short is instead expanded beyond its slender means into a resistible romantic
comedy that blatantly nods to forerunners from Annie Hall to She’s Gotta
Have It. At 84 minute, Terence Nance’s movie meanders, jumping back and
forth between live action and animation but making few pertinent points about
relationships. Namik Minter is delightful but Nance takes on too much in front
of and behind the camera. Extras include two Nance shorts, Nance’s and Minter’s
commentaries.
War and Peace
(Acorn)
Leo Tolstoy’s massive historical
novel pretty much resists adaptation, but that doesn’t mean that filmmakers
won’t keep trying. This European television adaptation scores points for its vastness,
locations and costumes—all of which are in the spirit of the book—but despite an
extraordinarily large cast, none of the main characters is drawn very sharply. In
an international ensemble, Frenchwoman Clemence Poesy is a decent Natasha, Italian
Alessio Boni a lackluster Andrei and Brit Malcolm McDowell enlivens things whenever
he appears as Andrei’s father, Prince Bolkonsky.
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