Blu-rays
of the Week
Akira Kurosawa’s Dreams
(Criterion)
One of Japanese master Akira Kurosawa’s most
vividly visual filmscapes, this episodic 1990 fantasy doesn’t connect in any
way but its stories are heartfelt—if at times diffuse—reminders of how life on
this planet is both precious and filled with man-made horrors. The best
segments, at the beginning and end, present Kurosawa’s singular cinematic vision
at its most colorful: the middle segment, on Vincent van Gogh (with Martin
Scorsese miscast as the painter), gloriously bursts into dazzling primary
colors. Criterion’s excellent release comprises an eye-poppingly beautiful
hi-def transfer; Stephen prince commentary; Making
of “Dreams,” a 150-minute on-set documentary; Kurosawa's Way (2011), a 50-minute feature with many filmmaking
admirers discussing Kurosawa; and new interviews with assistant director
Takashi Koizumi and production manager Teruyo Nogami round out this excellent
set.
J’accuse
(Olive
Films)
In Christopher Hampton’s choppy 1995 biopic Carrington, Emma Thompson embracingly
embodies the title character, whose love for avowed homosexual writer Lytton
Stratchey (a powerful Jonathan Pryce) was forever unrequited; Hampton gets much
right, but he meanders too often to no discernable point. Abel Gance’s J’accuse, a strong but strident 1938
anti-war tract, showcases several formidable actors (Victor Francen, Jean-Max, Line
Noro, Paul Amiot) who point Gance’s polemic in the right direction. Both films
have nicely restored transfers.
(Olive
Signature)
This 1971 revenge western stars a comely but wooden
Raquel Welch as a frontier woman who survives a rape by three outlaws, then tracks
them down after they kill her husband in cold blood. Director Burt Kennedy is
unsure whether he’s making an exploitation flick or a serious drama about a
woman’s degradation and redemption, ending up in a no man’s (or woman’s) land
uneasily poised between two extremes. Robert Culp is gamely appealing as the
hired gun who helps Hannie, while Ernest Borgnine, Strother Martin and Jack
Elam are an appropriately despicable bunch of hombres. The film looks quite
good on Blu-ray; extras are a director Alex Cox (Walker, Repo Man) commentary and two featurettes.
(HBO)
This HBO series about a trio of gay men who
are close friends explores their relationships, both platonic and intimate,
over the course of two seasons and 16 episodes—along with a full-length film
which reunited the friends a year later at a wedding. The five-disc Blu-ray set
brings together all of the episodes and the film, all showcasing the rich, sensitive
performances in the leads by Jonathan Groff, Frankie J. Alvarez and Murray
Bartlett. The hi-def transfers are first-rate; the 16 episodes contain audio
commentaries.
(Criterion)
Marlon Brando’s lone directing effort was this
overambitious 1961 western in which he plays a gunslinger who, after going to
prison because of his partner’s betrayal, spends the rest of the long movie getting
his ultimate revenge. The always-charismatic Brando is never less than
watchable, Karl Malden fine as his nemesis and Slim Pickens steals scenes as
Malden’s lackey, but there’s a huge hole left by Pina Pellicer’s amateurishly
stiff performance as the woman Brando loves. It’s undeniably gorgeous to look
at, as Charles Lang’s splendid cinematography gains in color and detail in Criterion’s
restored hi-def transfer. Extras include a Martin Scorsese intro, Brando voice-recording
excerpts made during production and video essays on Jacks’ production history and Brando’s making a western.
Capital
The Syndicate—All or Nothing
Wentworth
(Acorn)
The acting is the main thing is two new
British television series, as well as one from Down Under. Capital is a clever drama tinged with mystery and paranoia, helped
along by an ace cast led by Toby Jones, Rachael Stirling, Lesley Sharp and
Gemma Jones; The Syndicate—which follows
the servants at a ritzy mansion who win the lottery—features a stellar ensemble
headed by Alice Krige, Polly Walker and Anthony Andrews. The intense Australian
prison drama Wentworth—emphatically
not a rip-off of Orange Is the New Black—also
features a plethora of superb performers: Danielle Cormack, Nicole da Silva, Kris
McQuade, Leeanna Walsman and Kate Atkinson. Wentworth
extras include an hour of on-set featurettes and several interviews.
(IFC)
Actor Brady Corbet’s haunting directorial
debut, a Fascist allegory for our time, is an absorbing tale of a rambunctiously
wild child—son of an American ambassador in Europe—who quickly discovers that
he can have his way at any cost, including the lives of his parents. Although the
finale unsubtly depicts the adult leader beginning his reign in front of
cheering crowds—the showy camerawork and blatant score are showy undercut the power
of the images—overall, this is an unsettling and pertinent expose, which
features a brilliant performance by Berenice Bejo as the boy’s mother.
Lo and Behold—Reveries of the Connected World
(Magnolia)
Another of German director Werner Herzog’s
endlessly fascinating documentaries—as opposed to his trite and unconvincing
fictions—is this playfully serious study of how the virtual world has
encroached on the real one, most likely to our ultimate peril. As usual, Herzog
seeks out the most interesting if unlikely people to talk with, all in his own,
charmingly accented English; that inimitable voice also provides the
alternately amused and bemused narration. Lone extra is a Herzog interview.
Arthur Honegger and Jacques Ibert—L’Aiglon
(Decca)
Two master French composers did that rare thing,
joining forces to collaborate on an opera. The unsurprisingly tuneful but
surprisingly coherent result (musically and dramatically) contains both charming
and intense music, with a flavorful libretto based on Edmund Rostand’s play
about Napoleon’s son. This recording—conducted by Kent Nagano, leading a lovely
performance by the Montreal Symphony Orchestra—gets all the little details
right and builds the opera to a taut finale; there’s exquisitely idiomatic singing
by sopranos Anne-Catherine Gillet and Helene Guilmette and baritones Marc
Barrard and Etiene Dupuis. Too bad this rarity—first performed in 1937 then
infrequently done since—wasn’t given a staging that we could watch on DVD or
Blu-ray.
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