Blu Xmas: The Top 10 hi-def reissues of 2011
By Dennis Hartley
Since procrastinators (you know who you are) still have a little window (now through December 15, according to the USPS) to mail parcel post in time for Christmas delivery, I thought I’d toss out some gift ideas for you, with ten Blu-rays to consider. Most titles also have a concurrent standard DVD edition available, so if you don’t have a Blu-ray player, don’t despair. As per usual, my list is presented in alphabetical, not preferential order. But first, we need to talk (awkward silence). Well, just a gentle reminder. Any time you click a film title link from this weekly feature and end up making a purchase (any Amazon item), you help your favorite starving bloggers get a little something more than just a lump of coal in their Christmas/Hanukah stockings… *cough*…). Happy holidays!
- Although it remains a mystery as to why Stanley Kubrick’s most visually sumptuous film took so long to arrive on Blu-ray, I’m just happy that it finally has. This beautifully constructed, leisurely paced adaptation of William Makepeace Thackeray’s rags-to-riches-to-rags tale about a roguish Irishman of low birth (Ryan O’Neal) who grifts his way into the British aristocracy is like watching 18th-century paintings come to life (and to its detractors, about as exciting as being forced to stare at one of said paintings for 3 hours, strapped to a chair). This magnificent film has improved with age, like a fine wine; successive viewings prove the legends about Kubrick’s obsession with the minutest of details regarding production design were not exaggerated-every frame steeps in period authenticity. Michael Hordern’s delightfully droll voiceover performance as The Narrator rescues the proceedings from sliding into staidness. Warner includes no extras to speak of (they are notorious for issuing bare bones editions), but the film looks spectacular. Now, if “someone” would release Ridley Scott’s gorgeous 1977 Napoleonic piece, The Duellists
on Blu-ray (anyone? Bueller?) then my life will be (sorta) complete.
- Out of the myriad movie adaptations of Mme. Leprince de Beaumont’s fairy tale, Jean Cocteau and (uncredited) co-director Rene Clement’s 1946 version remains the most deeply haunting and romantic rendering. This probably had something to do with the fact that it was made by a director who quite literally had the soul of a poet (Cocteau’s day job, in case you didn’t know). Jean Marais (Cocteau’s favorite leading man, onscreen and off) gives a touching and soulful performance as The Beast who is paralyzed by an unrequited passion for his “prisoner of love”, the beautiful Belle (Josette Day). This version is a surreal, transportive fantasy that I don’t think was made for kids (especially with the psychosexual undercurrents). The moral of the original tale, however, remains intact, and simple enough for a child to grasp: it’s what’s inside that counts. The film is a triumph of production design, with an inventive visual style that continues to influence filmmakers (a recent example would be Guillermo del Toro, who wore the Cocteau influence all over his sleeve in his 2006 film, Pan's Labyrinth
). Criterion’s Blu-ray reissue of the 2002 restoration highlights Henri Alekan’s stunning B & W photography. Extras include a fascinating interview with (the late) Alekan, who shares memories while visiting a few original shooting locations. The disc has an option to run Philip Glass’ synchronous opera, La Belle et la Bête, as an alternate soundtrack. 
- One of Brian de Palma’s finest efforts, this 1981 paranoia thriller is one of my favorite conspiracy-a-go-go flicks. John Travolta stars as a movie sound man who works on schlocky horror films. One night, while making a field recording of outdoor ambience, he unexpectedly captures the sounds of a fatal car accident involving a political candidate, which may or may not have actually been an “accident”. The proof lies buried somewhere in his recording-which naturally becomes a coveted item by a number of dubious characters. His life begins to unravel in tandem with the secrets on his tape. The director brings on a full arsenal of influences (from Antonioni to Hitchcock), but succeeds in making this one his most “de Palma-esque” (if that makes sense) with some of the deftest set-pieces he’s ever done (particularly in the climax-which borders on the poetic-followed by one of the most haunting epilogues you’ll ever see). This visually stunning film has been screaming for a Blu-ray release, and Criterion has done it proud. The extras include excellent, in-depth interviews with de Palma and co-star Nancy Allen.
- Robert Aldrich directed this influential 1955 pulp noir, adapted by A.I. Bezzerides from Mickey Spillane’s novel. Ralph Meeker is the epitome of Cool as hard-boiled private detective Mike Hammer, who gives a ride to a half-crazed (and half-naked) escapee from “the laughing house” (Cloris Leachman) one fateful evening after she flags him down on the highway. This sets off a chain of events that escalates from pushing matches with low-rent thugs to an embroilment with a complex conspiracy involving a government scientist and a stolen box of highly radioactive “whatsit” that is being coveted by any number of shadowy and nefarious parties. The sometimes confounding plot takes a back seat to the film’s groundbreaking look and vibe. The expressive and inventive cinematography (by Ernest Laszlo), coupled with the shocking brutality and nihilism of the characters, puts it light years ahead of its time. Criterion’s transfer is excellent (even if the hi-def does bring out the inherent graininess-which you won’t notice after a bit). Extras include commentary from two respected noir historians, contextual excerpts from two docs (one about screenwriter Bezzerides and the other a profile of Spillane) and a tribute by Alex Cox (who paid homage in his film, Repo Man
).
- During those long, dark nights of my soul, when all seems hopeless and futile, there’s always one particular thought that never fails to bring me back to the light. It’s that feeling that somewhere, out there in the ether, there’s a frog, with a top hat and a cane, waiting for a chance to pop out of a box to sing:Hello my baby, hello my honey, hello my ragtime gal
Send me a kiss by wire, baby my heart’s on fire…
If you don’t know what I’m talking about, just go ahead and skip to the next review now. The rest of you might want to check out this fabulous 3-disc collection, which features 50 classic animated shorts (and 18 rarities) from the Warner Brothers vaults. Deep catalog Looney Tunes geeks may quibble until the cows come home about what’s not here (Warner has previously released six similar DVD collections in standard definition), but for the more casual fans (like yours truly) there is plenty here to please. I’m just happy to have the likes of “One Froggy Evening”, “I Love to Singa”, “Rabbit of Seville”, “Duck Amuck”, “Leghorn Lovelorn”, “Three Little Bops” and “What’s Opera Doc?” all in one place. The selections cover all eras, from the 1940s onward. One thing that does become clear, as you watch these restored gems in gorgeous hi-def (especially those from the pre-television era) is that these are not “cartoons”, they are 7 ½ minute films, every bit as artful as anything else cinema has to offer. Extras include a trio of excellent documentaries about the studio’s star director, the legendary Chuck Jones. The real diamond amongst the rarities is The Dot and the Line: A Romance in Lower Mathematics (directed by Jones for MGM), which won the 1965 Oscar for Best Animated Short Film.
- Look in the dictionary under “ripping yarn” and you’ll likely see a picture of this engaging adventure from 1975, co-adapted by director John Huston with Gladys Hill from Rudyard Kipling’s classic short story. Stars Sean Connery and Michael Caine both shine (and have fantastic chemistry) as a pair of British army veterans who set their sights on plundering an isolated kingdom in the Hindu Kush. Well, that’s their initial plan. Before it’s all said and done, one of them finds himself to be the King of Kafiristan, and the other one sort of…covering his friend’s flank while they both try to figure out how they are going to load up all that treasure and make a graceful exit without losing their heads in the process. As it is difficult for a king to “uncrown” himself, that is going to take one hell of a soft shoe routine. In the realm of “buddy films”, the combined star magnetism provided here by Connery and Caine has seldom been equaled (Redford and Newman come to mind). Also with Christopher Plummer (as Kipling) and Saeed Jaffrey. Warner’s Blu-ray is short on extras, but has a spiffy transfer.
-Although it is chockablock with classic “western” tropes, Sergio Leone manages to honor, parody, and transcend the genre all at once with this 1968 masterpiece. This is a textbook example of pure cinema, distilled to a crystalline perfection of mood, atmosphere and narrative at its most elemental. At its heart, it’s a relatively simple revenge tale, involving a headstrong widow (Claudia Cardinale) and an enigmatic “harmonica man” (Charles Bronson) who both have a sizable bone to pick with a sociopathic gun for hire (Henry Fonda, cast against type as one of the most execrable villains in screen history). But there are bigger doings afoot as well-like building a railroad and winning the (mythic) American West. Also on board: Jason Robards, Jack Elam, Woody Strode and Keenan Wynn. Dario Argento and Bernardo Bertolucci had a hand in developing the story, and it wouldn’t be a classic Leone joint without a typically rousing soundtrack by his longtime musical collaborator, Ennio Morricone (love that “Harmonica Man Theme”). It goes without saying that Tonino Delli Colli’s cinematography is breathtaking in HD. Paramount’s Blu-ray includes the theatrical and fully restored versions, and carries over all of the extras from their previous DVD edition.
-“How tall was King Kong?” That’s the $64,000 question, posed several times by Eli Cross (Peter O’Toole), the larger-than-life director of the film-within-the-film in Richard Rush’s 1980 cult classic. Once you discover that King Kong was but “3 foot, six inches tall”, it becomes clear that the fictional director’s query is actually code for a much bigger question: “What is reality?” And that is the question to ponder as you take this wild ride through the Dream Factory. Because from the moment our protagonist, a fugitive on the run from the cops (Steve Railsback) tumbles ass over teakettle onto Mr. Cross’s set, where he is in the midst of filming an art-house flavored WW I action adventure, his concept of what is real and what isn’t becomes quite muddled, to say the least (as does ours). O’Toole really chews the scenery; he is ably supported by a cast that includes Barbara Hershey and Allen Garfield. A one-of-a-kind flick that stands up well to repeat viewings, it is truly a movie for people who love the movies. The Blu-ray transfer does reveal it to be a candidate for a full-blown restoration at some point-but you can’t have everything. Luckily, Severin Films has seen fit to include the full-length doc, The Sinister Making of the Stuntman, because it makes for a fascinating tale in and of itself. 
- I think I actually nearly swooned when I first heard that Criterion was going to give this one the Blu-ray treatment; it’s one of my all-time favorite noirs. Tony Curtis gives a knockout performance as a slimy press agent who shamelessly sucks up to Burt Lancaster’s JJ Hunsecker, a powerful NYC entertainment columnist who can launch (or sabotage) show biz careers with a flick of his poison pen (yes, kids-print journalists once held that kind of power…JJ is sort of a cross between Perez Hilton and Andrew Breitbart). Although it was made 50 years ago, the film retains its edge and remains one of the most vicious and cynical ruminations on America’s obsession with fame and celebrity. Alexander Mackendrick directed, and the sharp Clifford Odets/Ernest Lehman screenplay veritably drips with venom. Lots of quotable lines; Barry Levinson paid homage in his 1982 film Diner
, with a character who is obsessed with the film and drops in and out of scenes, incessantly quoting the dialogue. A 1973 documentary about the cinematographer James Wong Howe is the highlight amongst the extras on the disc. -If Robert Altman’s haunting, one-of-a-kind 1977 character study plays out like a languid, sun-baked California desert fever dream, it’s because it was. As the late director explains on the commentary track of Criterion’s 2011 reissue, the story literally appeared to him while he was sleeping. What ended up on the screen not only represents Altman’s personal best, but the best American art film of the 1970s. The three women of interest are Millie (Shelly Duvall), an incessantly chatty nursing home therapist, dismissed as a needy bore by everyone around her except for her childlike roommate/co-worker Pinky (Sissy Spacek), who worships the ground she walks on, and the enigmatic Willie (Janice Rule), a pregnant artist who whiles away her days painting bizarre anthropomorphic lizard figures on the bottoms of swimming pools. The personas of the three women merge in an oddly compelling fashion, bolstered by fearless performances from the trio of leading ladies. By the end, it’s irrefutable that Willie, Millie and Pinky could only have come from the land of Wynken, Blynken and Nod. Criterion uncharacteristically skimps on disc extras, but this mesmerizing film was made for HD.Honorable mention: For the Stanley Kubrick fan on your list, Criterion’s reissue of the director’s 1956 noir, The Killing
Mo’ better Blus: The Conversation
.